#hey look it's me again scrolling through poetry and going through it

[vintagenahbi]

When You’re Hurt

Ot7x Reader- BTS Reactions Pt.1

JHope, Suga, Jungkook

Summary: How each member reacts when you have been harmed or injured.

Warnings 🚨: Mentions of harm, accidents, and assault

Authors note: I won’t be writing for a while (a week or so). I am starting my new blog dedicated to poetry and positivity. I will keep this one as a random blog with an emphasis on my writing. Enjoy :)

JHope

I was in a rush this morning trying to make sure I wasn’t late for work again. I grabbed my tote bag and ran out the door. I clicked for the elevator to come up but it was taking forever. I glanced over to see the empty stairway. In a split decision I took the stairs. I ran down the first flight with no problems, it was the second that was a mistake. My tote got caught between my legs and I tripped flying down each step until I made it to the bottom.

I was in shock of what had happened. My body was completely sore. My work pants were torn up to my thigh. I had a cut on the palm of my hand and my cheek felt numb. I managed to prop myself up and limp back up the stairs.

I got back to my apartment and limped over to the couch. I shuffled through my pocket and grabbed my phone. The screen was shattered but I had to text my boss. I knew he wouldn’t believe me, but it didn’t hurt to try to save my job.

My body was in so much pain. I sat on the couch trying to figure out how I was going to get up and how I was going to explain this to Hobi. I managed to gain the strength to get up. I slowly walked into the bathroom. I turned on the light and was surprised to see my reflection in the mirror. I had a cut above my eyebrow, bruises on my arm, and a little bit of blood on my shirt.

I heard the front door open and panicked. Hobi wasn’t supposed to be home for another hour. I got undressed quickly and hopped in the shower. Once I got out, I grabbed one of Hobi’s sweat sets and headed back into the living room. Hobi was laying on the couch scrolling through his phone.

“Hey you.” I said trying not to sound or look suspicious. Hobi was surprised to see me.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

“I had an accident so I called out.”

He sat up from the couch and grabbed my shattered phone shaking it in the air. I got caught. Not to mention me standing up was not making me feel any better.

“I fell down the stairs.” I sat down next to him. I lifted my sleeve and showed him my bruises. He was freighted by how badly the fall was. It had gotten worse and the bruises were becoming more visible.

“We should go to the hospital to make sure you’re okay. This doesn’t look good Y/N.” He lifted my legs so I could lay down.

“Hobi I swear I am okay. I am a little sore is all.” I tried to sit up and winced in pain. Hobi hated that I was in pain like this. He got up and got me an ice pack. He placed it on my legs to help soothe the swelling.

The entire day Hobi watched over me. He made sure I was okay and ate. He tended to all my needs with gentleness.

When night time rolled around I was starting to feel a lot better. Hobi tucked me into bed and gave me a kiss on my forehead. I could tell something was still bothering him though. He got in on his side and sat in silence for a second.

“Why did you try to hide that you fell? Were you afraid I would judge you or something?” Hobi looked at me concerned.

“It was embarrassing, plus it was my last warning I had and this is how I might lose my job. I was ashamed.” Hobi snuggled next to me, letting me be the little spoon.

“I want you to be safe. Plus your boss is a jerk, so maybe this is a good thing.” I turned over to face him. His eyes darted up at my red cheeks and cut on my eyebrow. He kissed me. “Regardless, I will always be here for you especially in times of need.”

Suga

I woke up completely disoriented. I heard loud sirens make their way near me. I pushed the airbag down so I could see better. I crawled out the car and to the side of the road. My body went numb and I blacked out.

When I finally came to, I was in the hospital. Yoongi was holding my hand as if he had been waiting for a long time impatiently. Once he noticed I was up, he got up from his seat and started crying. He hugged me tightly but stopped once I winced in pain.

“I’m so glad you woke up.” Tears flowed down his cheeks. A painful image I couldn’t stand to see because seeing him cry made me cry. He let me go and sat back down.

“What happened Yoongi?” I was terrified. I looked around and could see I was in the hospital. My body was sore and my boyfriend was crying. I knew whatever happened must have been bad.

“You got into a car accident. The car flipped and when they found you, you were passed out on the side of the road. I thought I lost you.” I grabbed his hand in a poor attempt to comfort him. I couldn’t put my emotions into words. I couldn’t remember what happened and it was becoming too much.

Everyday Yoongi came to the hospital with some kind of gift. He made sure I kept my head on straight while my memory on the accident came back. He showered me with love and reminded me how beautiful I am. Since the accident, my face was banged up to the point that it was hard to look in the mirror. Yoongi made sure to uplift me when I couldn’t do it myself.

A week later, I was discharged from the hospital. Yoongi took a temporary leave of absence from tour to take care of me. He made sure I got into a routine. When I couldn’t sleep, he was up late with me. He drove me everywhere until I got comfortable with the idea of being back behind the wheel.

Yoongi was fixing us dinner when he finally opened up. He put the bowl in front on me and sat down. I still had some bruising but it had gotten a lot better. Yoongi stared at me for a second before he mustered up the courage to speak.

“I could’ve lost you Y/N. I can’t live a life without you. I love you and seeing you like that broke me.” Tears started to form in his eyes.

“Yoongi.” Was all I could say at first. I couldn’t see him hurt more from my suffering. “I am always going to be here. Yoongi you are my home and I will always fight for that.” He kissed my hand. I grabbed my napkin and dried my tears. I smiled at him and started eating dinner. I was so glad that after everything Yoongi was the one by my side.

Jung Kook

Jungkook and I were in the middle on an intense argument. We had never gotten to the point of yelling at each other or me feeling like I needed to get away from him.

“Y/N stop acting this way. I’m tired of you getting upset over little things.” I looked at him appalled.

“This wasn’t little to me. I asked you to be there for a reason. We had this planned in advance. It was important to me.” Jungkook stood there with nothing left to say. I grabbed my phone and hurriedly walked out of the apartment. I ran out the building with Jungkook following behind.

It was raining outside but I didn’t care. My clothes were drenched and I could hear Jungkook yelling for me in the back. Luckily, there weren’t that many people on the street. We were not causing too much of a scene.

I stopped to cross the street. Jungkook caught up to me and grabbed my arm. I ripped my arm away from him. I looked both ways and crossed the street not saying a word to him. Suddenly, I heard my name. I looked and was blinded by headlights.

I landed on the ground. My body was completely numb. Jungkook swooped me up in his arms and held me. He kept yelling for someone to get help. I looked at him and started to cry from the pain. Jungkook wiped my tears away. I was trying my hardest not to panic but for all I knew this could be the end.

“I’m gonna get help okay?” Jungkook was about to leave but I pleaded for him to stay with me. I didn’t want to have to be left alone. I could feel my body getting weaker. Jungkook held me tightly in his arms. He shuffled trying to keep his composure. “Y/N, please stay awake.” He gently tapped my face, but I was too tired.

When I came to I was in the ambulance. Jungkook was holding my hand. I pulled it on my stomach so he would know I was okay. Once he noticed, I could see relief fill his body. He knew I was going to be okay and I knew he was never going to abandon me.

#bts fanfic #bts imagines #bts reactions #bts reader #bts x reader #bts #bts suga #min yoogni #yoongi x reader #jhope imagine #jhope #jhope x reader #jeon jungkook #reader x jungkook #jungkook #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader

[short-honey-badger]

Peppermint Tea 9

Hey guys! On to part 9! I've been doing a lot of thinking on this fic and I think it's evolved into something bigger. Let me know what you guys think!

Warnings! Violence in a dream

Masterlist

Dracule leaves two days later. You send him off with a kiss and a pouch of your peppermint tea leaves and watch him sail away until he is nothing but a speck on the horizon. You shake your head, the forlorn feeling present, but you are quick to shove it down. You had things to do, so you didn't need to be standing around wondering when you would see Dracule again. 

After the incident at the cliff, Mihawk had acted as if nothing had happened, and you were content to let the promise slide. The next two days had been spent quietly reading and getting to know one another. Sweet kisses and wandering hands had invaded each one of those moments until Dracule rose this morning and deemed that he had to go. Business to attend to once again. 

You frown thinking about those words. You want to know what he means by business. You want to know what islands he goes to and who he's met. You have poured over your books and sea stained papers for years, and every single map you have come across never has your island. 

You know the shape and length and every plant and animal that shares this island with you. You and Hank have explored every nook and cranny your home has to offer, down to the sandy beach and up to the small mountain on the western side of the tropical island. And not once have you seen it labeled or drawn on any of the scrolls that wash up on the shore. 

Dracule offered you so little knowledge about himself. However, he could go on for hours about the books he's read, reciting poetry from memory as the two of you sit by the fireplace late at night. Later, he would say that he would bring you more books, either to add to your collection or to replace the old ones. 

Maybe you can convince him to bring some maps so that you can try and find out more about your home. Did you live in any of the Blues? Or was your home in the more dangerous parts of the ocean such as the Grand line and the New World? You had no idea. 

The shaggy body of Hank barreling into you sends the melancholy thoughts from your mind as the big dog pulls your focus on him. He has his stick again, and the two of you play until both of you are exhausted and in need of a good nap. 

The two of you would wake up later than you had intended in the evening and examine the seeds and other goodies that Dracule had brought with him. You had been far too distracted with the man in question to even think about going out and planting any, but now was a good time as ever. You find some empty pots and carefully press the delicate seeds into the soil that you'd gathered from your garden. Once covered, you add enough water to properly dampen the spoil and then place each of your pots on the tall barrels that sit behind your home. You smile down at your hard word, excited for when the saplings break through the soil, though that wouldn't be for a week or two at the least. 

The rest of the day was spent harvesting your other herbs, cutting and drying out the roots and leaves for brewing and leaving the rest to replant. It's satisfying work, and soon, your kitchen is full of drying herbs that make your home smell delightful. Chores done for now: You make yourself a cup of tea from the ones that Mihawk had gifted you and settle on the couch by the fireplace with one of his books. You read until you dozed off, Hank curled up on the floor snoozing away with you. 

~~~~~~~~

“Oh boy, look who decided to grace us with their presence,” Shanks crowed, a grin stretching across his face as he raised his mug of ale up in greeting. It isn't often that Mihawk would show up in a good enough mood for a drink, especially since the warlord didn't want to fight him anymore. 

Dracule rolls his eyes, a sneer on his lips as he casts his ringed eyes over the Red-Haired Pirates and their Captain. He'd seen the Red Force by chance and had decided on a whim to investigate what they were up to. In a way, it was his job to do so, so it wasn't like it was out of his way, “Only to see what you and your lot are doing here.” 

It didn't help that the Yonko had docked on an island only a four day sail away from your home. Shanks didn't hang around the first half of the Grand Line often, so it made him antsy to know that someone so powerful, even with a single arm, was so close to his safe haven. 

“The usual, partying, exploring, having a good time. Something you should definitely do more often,” Shanks tells him, vague and annoying like always. 

Dracule keeps his expression neutral. Shanks was like a shark in the water when it came to finding out things about his once close friend. It would be catastrophic if the redhead found out about you. 

“I have my own way of enjoying my time. One that doesn't involve drinking myself into a stupor every evening,” Dracule quips, but still takes the offered drink despite his words. 

Shanks slaps him on the back, laughing jovially, and Mihawk grimaces when the unexpected contact makes his drink slosh over the edge of his mug. Dracule shrugs off the offending hand with a roll of his eyes. 

“I'm sure you do, Hawkeye. Brooding away in that castle if yours. When's the last time you even spoke to a woman?” Shanks teases and knocks back the rest of his ale then signals the bar keep for a new one with a cheeky wink. 

“A couple of days ago, if you must know,” Dracule admits without thinking about it, and immediately curses himself when Shanks gasps dramatically and crowds his space. 

“What? Tell me about her! What's she like? What's her name? She must be someone special to catch your eye, Mihawk.” 

Dracule shoves the redhead back, regret coiling hot at his mishap. He takes his time by sipping his ale and ignores the manchild whining in his ear and asking questions after question that Dracule would not be answering. His patience soon wears thin, however, and he slams his mug down on the counter with a snarl.

“It is none of your business, Shanks. I never meant to say anything to you about her,” Dracule states, tone tinged in an unfamiliar rage. He doesn't get angry very often, but the thought of playboy, beachbum, Shanks even knowing your name sets his teeth on edge. 

The other pirate captain shows some tack for once in his life and raises his hand in surrender, “Alright. I won't ask anymore,” he says, but a shit eating grin is curling his lips and he leans in close to the warlord, “Ya gotta at least tell me she's a catch though, right?” 

Mihawk huffs and pinches the bridge of his nose. Shanks just couldn't stop could he? 

“As beautiful a fresh blanket of snow, but with a smile that could melt it all away,” Dracule murmurs quietly and Shanks eyes the swordsman in a new light. He had never heard the man wax poetry about someone before. 

“Huh, you must really like her then, huh?” Shanks presses and is rewarded with the sight of Dracule dipping his head in a nod. he sips his ale, thoughts swirling about this mystery woman. 

“Well. I'm glad you've finally found someone that'll put up with your broody ass,” Shanks snickers and slaps Mihawk on the back once more with a big grin. Truly, he was happy that his friend had someone to escape to, especially when their world grew more dangerous every day. 

Mihawk is quiet for a long time, long enough that he has finished his ale and stands from his stool. He tosses enough berri on the counter to cover his drink, and then turns away from Shanks, “Thank you, Red Hair,” he begins and sends the Yonko a look over his shoulder, eyes holding The threat of a fight, “Don't make me regret telling you.” 

Shanks laughs with a shake of his head and waves at Dracule, “I'll try not to, Hawkeye,” he snickers again at the glare that receives for that, but it was definitely worth it. 

Mihawk leaves the island without bothering to learn its name and sets sail for Gloom. He filled the boring trip with thoughts of you, recalling how nicely your cool skin felt upon his heated body. How much he enjoyed listening to you read from the books he's already devoured countless times. How sweet your lips taste when you kiss him so innocently. 

Dracule is not sure when he will go back, but his hands already itch to feel your soft skin, and he is parched for the sweet peppermint tea you grow. The warlord sighs, a great expel of air from his lungs, and looks north to the calm belt, where your island stays protected at its edge. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

The screams of the men and children of your home island echo in your ears as you are dragged through the crowds of people. Your older brother holds you tight by the wrist, pulling you through the throngs of citizens. Your short legs can hardly keep up, but you power through the fatigue to keep up with your brother. 

Your island, your home is being attacked, and you are terrified. You don't understand why it's happening, only know that your oldest brother had woken you up in the middle of the night and packed your largest bag with the essentials. He had instructed you to be silent as the two of you snuck through the castle, away from your mother and father and other siblings that still slept in peace. 

You yelped when you suddenly tripped over a loose brick in the road, sending you to your knees and snow exploded around you and your brother, causing screams to erupt all around. You wince and push yourself up, desperately scrambling for your older brother. 

Gods, you wish you could remember his name. 

“Come on, princess,” He is suddenly there, swinging you up and over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, “We're almost to the port.” 

You watch from your perch as the people of your island run for the castle, panic and fear all around as the town burns and the fields are decimated by someone with an earth devil fruit. Your brother runs as fast as he can to the port, trying to shield his baby sister from the harsh realities of a treaty gone wrong and a dark secret revealed. 

The two of you make it to Port just in time to witness the biggest ship you have ever seen crash into the main docks. The pirates don't seem to care about the destruction they have caused, and you watch in horror, eyes latching onto the symbol that the barbarians proudly wear. It's a bright pink cloud, a skull with bug red lips and with a sun and a tree on opposite corners. 

The sight is broken when your brother rounds a corner, and you grunt when he slides to a sudden stop. You try to turn around and are able to catch sight of a wide brimmed hat with a massive white feather falling from the back. A giant sword rests on the man's back, the hilt oddly shaped like a cross.

“Don't look, Sunshine,” your brother orders, but you don't listen. You can't listen to him. Not when that hat and sword look so familiar. But from where? 

You are still thinking about the strange looking man when the two of you finally make it to the escape ship. Your brother loads you up, and with one last forlorn look at your dying island, he sets sail for Paradise, away from the New World, where his precious little sister would be safe. 

You wake slowly, the dream trickling away like grains of sand in an hourglass. It felt familiar, and your heart ached at the sight of the man who had saved you. With a sigh, you pull yourself up from the couch and give Hank a smile. It was time to start the day. 

@writingmysanity @kenkenmaaa @foggyturtleknightangel @browneyedhufflepuff @djbumblebee @goth-mami-writer @myradiaz

#fanfic #one piece #reader insert #fluff #dracule mihawk #hawkeye mihawk #mihawk x reader #op mihawk #opla mihawk x reader #opla mihawk #mihawk x y/n #mihawk x you #peppermint tea

[emeraldgreenbeautiesstu]

MATT X READER PLS.

Then book shopping n it’s all cute n stuff 😻😻‼️

Bernard's & Noble

(see what i did there)

Matt Sturniolo x Reader

Word count: 749

Alexis speaks! : hey guys! thank you for the request (the more requests, the more stories i post 😉) i'm honestly not very proud of this one, but i've deleted it four times already and this is the best i got 💀 once again, comments and likes are greatly appreciated, it helps me know if yall like my style or if i need to change anything! pls don't steal my work, love yall!

-

"Matttt?" i whined from my spot on the floor. i was bored out of my fucking mind. Matt wanted the day to be a 'lazy day' and by that he means he wanted to scroll social media and youtube all day. that was not my idea of fun, i've always been a hands on person whether that be going outside for hours, to the lake, reading, anything other than being lazy at home.

"whattttt?" he mocked, sitting up from his bed, his hair all messed up and funny looking.

i chuckled. "your hair looks great." i smiled, climbing to straddle his lap and fix his bed head. "better" i smiled, kissing him on the cheek. "i have a business proposal."

matt sighed, "what do you want." he rolled his eyes with a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

i hopped off him, standing at the foot of his bed. "i vote we go to barnes and noble today, my book case is baren." i joked. four out of the five of my bookshelves were full completely. but you can never have too many books.

"y/n you have more books than i think i've ever seen anywhere else in my life." he laughed. matt pretended to be annoyed, but he knows the answer is yes. and not just to this scenario, the answer is always yes to everything y/n wants. she had him wrapped around her tiny little finger. "when do you want to go?" he gave in.

i jumped around the room a couple times, silently celebrated with myself. "right now silly." i said. i trotted into his bathroom where i have my own drawer of toiletries and such. i touched up my makeup and threw on my shoes. "ok i'm ready." i beamed up at him. matt basically towered over me. he's 5'8 and i'm 5'3, so there's a pretty noticeable height difference.

he slipped his own shoes on. "i'm ready." he smiled, grabbing his keys.

i just looked at him. "matt babe." i looked at his outfit. "we are not going anywhere when you are wearing basketball shorts and a wife beater. please change." i said, false seriousness evident on my features.

-

"oh my god i'm literally gonna shit my pants i love barnes and noble." i said, climbing out of the passenger seat. I made matt carry my three tote bags i have designated for my favorite hobby, book shopping.

"do i really have to come in." matt complained.

-

we had been at barnes and noble for an hour already, two out of the three of my tote bags were full. so full we had to put them by checkout because they were too heavy to carry. About 15 minutes in i had made a joke that i thought was hilarious, matt didn't really think so.

-

"haha, bernard's and noble." i chuckled to myself, but matt heard me.

"y/n i swear to god i will leave you here."

"deal."

-

i was finally ready to go, the final tote bag full. i couldn't find matt though. i wandered through the multiple sections of books, matt no where in sight. "maybe he did leave me here." i mumbled under my breath. until my eye caught matt. he was crouched down, one hand on the shelf, the other hand occupied with a book.

"whatchya readin?" i smiled over him. my heart melted when he looked up at me, a small smile on his face. i took this time to take in his beauty. the way his slight curls fell over his eyebrows, the way his middle part accentuated his face shape, the way his blue eyes went so well with his outfit. he was wearing the white shirt with 'whatever' in bold print written across it, and baggy light wash blue jeans, his keys dangling from his belt loop.

"some poetry book, i might get it it's kinda fire." he smiled.

"you read poetry?"

"i like finding the good ones and printing them out, i like to look back on the really influential ones." matt said. he stood up and took my bag, his hand resting on the small of my back.

"matt i don't deserve you, you're so sweet." a cheesy grin creeping onto my lips.

"y/n you deserve the world." he smiled down at me, kissing my forehead.

"ok now how are we gonna get all of these in the car?" i laughed.

-

tag list!

@cupidzsq

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo edit #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #books and reading #book shop #shopping #barnes and noble

[cobrakaisb]

foolproof plan

summary: the only downside to fake dating is that someone always ends up falling for the other. 

warnings: y/n is a happy drunk; underage drinking (not condoning it); mostly cuteness; a couple swears

word count: 4.16k

“so do we have a deal?” he asked, hand out waiting for you to take it. you hesitated, biting your lip as your eyes flickered from his face to his hand. the anxiety and reality surrounding what you were about to do was setting in. were you actually agreeing to this? a surge of confidence washed over you as your smaller hand grasped his in a firm handshake. “we have a deal,” you agreed.

now all you had to do was pretend to fake date owen power. 

tall, brunette, number-one-overall nhl draft pick, owen power. your hesitancy to take owen’s hand had nothing to do with owen himself and everything to do with who he was; star hockey player for the university of michigan who was bound to go pro once their season came to an end. but you needed the help, and his proposition was too good to pass up. ever since your crush on kent johnson formed, you’ve been looking for a way to get closer to him, and this was the perfect opportunity. 

that’s right. owen’s caught you ogling at his best friend and roommate one too many times for it to be a coincidence. so when he proposed that the two of you fake date to make kent jealous and “light a fire under kent’s ass” (owen’s words not yours), the obvious answer was yes. it took a lot of pondering, but eventually you agreed to his idea, hence putting you in the situation you were in now. 

“but we need some rules,” you added, pulling your hand from his. owen smiled, a little half smile that definitely didn’t compare to his real one. “whatever you want sweetheart,” he agreed. you couldn’t help the small flush that appeared on your cheeks at the pet name. this was going to be a lot.  

“let’s meet tomorrow for lunch. at the chipotle off campus?” you suggested. “sure,” owen agreed, chomping on his gum. “where’s your phone?” he continued, holding his hand out for the device. at the sight of your confused look and raised eyebrows he huffed, “what? i just want to give you my number.” “oh right,” you mumbled, handing him the device with a blank contact. his fingers glided over the keyboard as he entered his information into your phone. “text me a time. actually, what class do you have? i’ll pick you up,” he said, eyes looking at you expectantly. 

“um poetry but,” you started before he cut you off, “right your class with kent.” you glared at his tone, one filled with teasing and something else you couldn’t decipher. owen smiled again at the sight of your angry face. you were cute. “i’ll pick you up and we’ll go to lunch, sound good?” he asked, but deep down you knew it was really a question. “perfect,” you agreed, a fake smile on your lips. “great! see you tomorrow babe,” he cheered before walking out of the lecture hall, leaving you stunned into silence.

--

walking out of poetry class, you were surprised to see owen standing there. he was leaning against the wall, scrolling through his phone aimlessly. you stopped for a moment, just admiring the beauty that was owen power. he was wearing gray sweats and a random michigan hockey shirt, along with his signature glasses that made him look just the right amount of nerdy. 

after some random person shoved you, you realized that you were blocking the hallway. you walked over to owen, clearing your throat as a signal that you were there. “hey. i’m ready to go when you are,” you said, a somewhat forced smile on your face. “me too. let me take your books,” he replied, grabbing the assortment of materials from your hands. “you don’t have to,” you tried to protest, but one look from owen had your mouth snapping shut. just as the two of you were about to walk away, someone called out owen’s name, and you knew exactly who it was. 

“what are you doing here?” the blonde asked, walking up to the two of you. “i have a date, remember?” owen answered, subtly gesturing to you. kent’s eyebrows furrowed, his bottom lip jutting out even more than it already was. “i didn’t think you were being serious,” came kent’s reply. your cringed, the sting from his words already hitting you. owen must have noticed because he huffed in annoyance, “funny kent. now if you’ll excuse us, my girlfriend and i have a lunch date to get to.” those were the final words of the conversation as owen began leading the way out of the building. 

the walk to chipotle was pretty much silent. there were minimal things to talk about anyways. “listen, about the comment, he didn’t mean anything by it. you’re great and what kent said had nothing to do with you--” owen started to explain, but you cut him off: “it’s fine owen. besides, it's not like we’re really dating anyway.” if you didn’t know any better you’d say his face fell at your words.      

“so what are these rules?” owen asked once the two of you sat down at a table in the back corner of chipotle. you felt heat creep up your cheeks at his intense stare. “i don’t know. i’d just figured we’d want rules so no one gets attached,” you mumbled, looking at owen shyly. “and is that what you’re worried about? getting attached?” he asked, and while you originally thought he was teasing, there was nothing but sincerity in his eyes. you neglected to answer, instead pulling out a piece of paper to write the agreed rules on. 

“okay so you can pick me up from class, if you want to obviously, and i’ll meet you at your classes too,” you said, looking at owen for confirmation. “i’ll pick you up from class and walk you there. you can do the same for me, if that’s what you want. keep things equal between us,” he agreed and you nodded, jotting down the first rule. 

this continued for some time until things started to get a bit more intense. “you come to all my home games. in my jersey,” he said, but it came off as more of a demand. “all of them?” you asked, biting your lip. “every single one. besides this will give you a chance to see kent play too,” owen replied, wiggling his eyebrows at the last part. you rolled your eyes at his words, huffing in annoyance. “fine. but i’m not wearing the jersey,” you said. “um yes you are. people need to know that you’re my girl, babe,” owen rebutted, giving you a pointed look. 

and he was right, of course. how were you supposed to be fake dating owen power if you don’t even wear his jersey to his games? “fine. but it’s just for show,” you relented. “mhm sure,” owen answered, taking a bite of his food. 

“and what about kissing?” you asked, causing a loud choking sound to come from the boy across from you. you sat up straight, leaning over the table to make sure he was all right. he continued to cough for a few seconds, but gathered himself almost immediately. once the coughing subsided, owen looked at you, and that's how you noticed the closeness between you two; noses barely touching, as his brown eyes met yours. a blush covered both your cheeks as you sat back down. “let’s not plan that out,” he mumbled, and you nodded, writing down the word kiss with a question mark next to it.

--

game tonight. stop by the locker room for the jersey

that was the text you saw displayed on your screen at the end of your midday lecture. this whole fake dating thing with owen had been going on for a couple of weeks now. the two of you walked each other to class, holding hands, parted ways with a hug and “kiss on the cheek” (because if people looked hard enough they would see that his lips barely grazed your skin), and then met up again afterwards for a small coffee or lunch date. it was going great. owen was a nice guy and fun to be around. he was also so smart and helped you out with your homework and studying on more than one account. 

today, however, was his first game since this establishment. it was going to be your big debut, as owen called it, and he had everything all mapped out. you would arrive early, just before warm ups, to meet him at the end of the tunnel, where he would give you his spare jersey. then you would sit in the children of yost section, and he’d make a big show of waving to you during warm ups. from there the team would go on to win the game (fingers crossed) and the two of you would celebrate with his friends at the after party. 

“a foolproof plan,” owen explained over lunch. “yeah totally foolproof. not a single thing could go wrong,” you said, sarcasm dripping from your voice. owen gave you a pointed look, but the smile threatening to make its way onto his face won over. “just keep an open mind,” he begged and you nodded, a small smile on your face as you continued to eat lunch. 

now you are standing at the entrance of the tunnel, fidgeting with your phone. you texted owen a couple of minutes ago and he replied saying that he’d be right out. finally, he came through the tunnel. his pads and skates were on, but no jersey. yet he still managed to look really good, and you had to physically stop your jaw from dropping. 

“hey,” he greeted. “hey. excited?” you asked, sticking your hands in the back pockets of your jeans as you rocked on your heels. “yeah. a little nervous too, but i think we have a good shot,” owen said, a hand running through his long hair. “yeah?” you asked. “yeah,” he answered. the two of you stood there, neither of you making a move. “so the jersey?” you pushed, nodding towards the maize colored jersey. “oh right,” he mumbled, handing it to you. 

you took the piece of clothing from him, inspecting the size. it was huge, going down to your mid thigh at least, and you’d definitely have to roll up the sleeves. “put it on. i want to see,” owen begged, a childish whine in his voice. you laughed, but obliged to his request with no problems. just as anticipated, the jersey was huge. “i look like a child,” you groaned, eyeing the length. you expected owen to have some smart comeback, or completely deny your accusation, but instead he said nothing. 

your eyes now moved from the ginormous jersey, to the tall giant in front of you. “what?” you asked softly, a blush coating your cheeks when you noticed his intense stare and wide opened mouth. again, owen didn’t say anything. “this was a bad idea. i should take it off,” you rambled, lifting the hem of the jersey, but owen stopped you. “no don’t. you look great, really great. please keep it on,” he whispered, fingers wrapping around your wrist. “okay o, i’ll keep it on,” you agreed, letting the fabric slip from your grasp. the air was heavy as his hand dropped yours, eyes still locked on you. “i um…i should go…team meeting and all,” he explained, a large hand rubbing the back of his neck. “yeah. yeah. i’ll see you after, okay?” you said and he nodded, turning to head back the way he came from. 

“oh and owen,” you called, grabbing his hand just before he stepped out of reach. “hmm?” “good luck,” you whispered, standing on your tiptoes as you left a gentle kiss on his jaw. 

--

the game ended up going really well. the boys pulled off a huge win over michigan state, leading to an absolute rager at one of their hockey houses. “we’re going,” owen decided for you, taking your hand in his as he led you to the house. it was clear that he was on an adrenaline high; owen had scored a goal but also had an assist. (at least that’s what the people around you kept saying.) he made a big show of pointing to you during his goal celebration, letting everybody know that the two of you were “together”. 

“are you nervous?” you asked, the hockey house coming into view. “no, why?” owen asked, looking down at you. “dunno. i just figured you would be. these are your friends after all,” you mumbled. “it’ll be fine. they really want to meet you. besides this is the perfect opportunity for you to get kent’s attention,” he said, bumping your shoulder towards the end. you don’t know why, but a small frown came over your face at the mention of kent. you hadn’t thought about the blonde since this whole thing started; your thoughts were consumed by a tall brunette. 

owen guided you up the stairs of the hockey house, one hand resting on the small of your back as you walked in front of him. he pulled the door open, waiting for you to enter the already bustling house. “big dog’s here!” someone shouted, causing a series of whoops and shouts to chorus throughout the room. 

owen smiled, a red tint coating his cheeks. he was so cute, you thought, watching him with a fond smile. “let’s go get a drink,” he said, directing you to the kitchen. the second you entered the small area, you were ambushed by a bunch of rowdy boys. you recognized some of them as owen’s teammates, but you couldn’t remember any names. 

“finally brought your girlfriend around, o?” one of them asked, a teasing smirk on his face. he was tiny, much smaller than owen, and blonde. owen rolled his eyes at the guy’s words, eliciting a couple laughs from the group. “this is y/n. y/n these are the guys,” he introduced, gesturing to the boys in front of you. “hi,” you said, offering them a small wave. 

“what do you want to drink?” owen asked, drawing your attention back to him. “um…lemonade i don’t know. i don’t really drink,” you answered. the blonde guy from earlier scoffed, throwing an arm over your shoulder. “oh that’s gonna change real quick,” he promised, taking it upon himself to make you a mixed drink.

hours later, and you were not only well acquainted with the team, but with drinking. you found out that the blonde guy was named thomas and that he and brendan were pong champs. somehow, and you have no idea how, the two of them had roped you into playing a game of pong with them. they partnered you up with mackie, one of the freshmen, and insisted that they would go easy on you. that strategy didn’t seem to be working in their favor though.    

“let’s go!” mackie shouted, high fiving you as the two of you won your third game in a row. “woo!” you cheered, jumping around excitedly. “dude! do better!” brendan shouted at thomas, causing the two of them to start playing the blame game. 

it was the loud commotion that attracted owen’s attention. he smiled at the sight of you interacting with his friends. you caught him staring, smiling widely at him. you waved him over, calling his name over the loud music. owen walked over to you, stopping when he reached your side. 

“owen! guess what? mackie and i keep winning,” you cheered, gesturing wildly to the younger boy. “oh yeah?” owen asked, trying to suppress a chuckle. you were so cute. “yeah. maybe you and i can play together,” you said, tapping his chest at your great idea. “i don’t think so honey. i think we should go home,” he answered, watching as a pout settled on your lips. “but i’m having so much fun. can’t we stay for a little longer?” you begged, leaning into him. owen shook his head, before explaining that it would be best if you left. “you can come over another time,” he promised, causing your eyes to twinkle in happiness.

“really?” you asked softly, voice taking on an excited tone as your eyes lit up with happiness. “really,” owen answered, intertwining your fingers with his. he smiled fondly at you, nothing but love and adoration swimming in his brown eyes hidden behind those nerdy glasses. “okay. just let me say goodbye first,” you agreed, dropping one of your hands. he watched as you pulled mackie into a side hug, yet still managed to keep him close (not that owen would dream of letting you wander off).

after you’d made your rounds, and owen told the important people that he was heading out for the night, the two of you exited the still wild party. the cool crisp air hit your skin as you walked down the steps and onto the front lawn. “it’s kind of chilly,” you mumbled, stepping closer to owen, who’s body radiated heat like a personal heater. “here,” he began, sliding his arms out of the varsity jacket adorning the school’s logo.

“what owen--” you tried protesting, but he silenced you with a ‘hush’. drunk you didn’t have the energy to argue because you held your arms out, allowing him to slip the jacket onto your shoulders. immediately you were encompassed in the smell that was owen, causing your shoulders to relax and comfort to seep into your bones. “thanks babe,” you said, grabbing his hand in yours once again. that was the first time you called owen babe, but he figured now wasn’t the best time to mention it. 

--

“this physics homework is kicking my ass,” you complained, your head dropping into your hands as your pencil slid across the library table. currently, you and owen were having an impromptu study date in one of the library’s study rooms. he chuckled at your misery, causing you to lift your head up and frown at him. “it’s not funny owen. i’m actually really struggling,” you said, frowning a bit. “let me see it,” he asked, holding his hands out for your paper.

you smiled, happy to be getting some help from the physics genius himself. “what are you taking mech? or electrical?” he asked. your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at his question. “it’s just physics 101. i need it for my major,” you explained. “i see,” he mumbled, eyes completely focused on the paper while yours were completely focused on him. you watched with deep fascination as his brown eyes scanned the words on the page. you could basically see the mathematical gears turning in his head as he tried to decipher the problem and your chicken scratch handwriting. understanding lit up his eyes, as a small “aha” escaped his previously pursed lips. 

“you used the wrong equation here,” he started before going on a physics tangent involving the correct equations, solving steps, and substitutions. he was leaning over the table, watching intently as you worked to make the corrections necessary. when you finally finished the problem, you turned to look out the windows of the study room, the ones that gave you a perfect view of the library. you were surprised, but not shocked, a group of michigan hockey players staring at you like animals in a zoo. 

you blushed when they began making kissy faces at the two of you, brendan holding up a heart with his hands. owen just rolled his eyes, shaking his head gently at their antics. their laughs echoed in the previously quiet room as they all barged in. scraping the chairs against the floor to match their loud, teasing voices. kent took the seat next to owen, nudging the taller boy’s shoulder, shooting him a look that made fun of him in a loving manner. owen’s cheeks flamed and he turned his attention back to you, who was chatting with brendan and thomas while completing the physics homework. 

you must have felt his eyes on you because you looked up. the second your eyes connected your cheeks turned the same shade as his, but you quickly averted your attention back to your studies.  

--

weeks of fake dating turned into a month of fake dating. a month of fake dating turned into two weekend series at home and one away, all of which required you to wear owen’s jersey. all of them that made your feelings for owen abundantly clear. 

maybe this whole thing started out as a way for you to gain kent’s attention, but now you didn’t even care. kent had started talking to you more and texting you, but he didn’t hold your interest the way owen did. you from the past would have been thrilled by the attention, but now, it was unwanted and unwelcome. leading to your current predicament, how to tell owen that you wanted to date him in a realm outside of making kent jealous, rules, and all things fake. studying provided the perfect excuse for you to execute your foolproof plan. (granted you did have a test to study for but it could wait.) 

that night, you skipped out on some party that owen’s friends were hosting under the guise that you needed to prepare for the upcoming week. owen, like the great person that he is, offered to stay back and help you, but you declined his gracious offer. every couple of minutes owen would send you either a text or snap from the party claiming that he was bored and wished you were there. but he hasn’t sent you anything in almost half an hour, and you were disappointed to admit that it was getting to you. 

just as you were about to get back to studying, after checking your phone of course, there was a knock on your door. your eyebrows furrowed, thinking that maybe your roommate lost her key again. but you were surprised to find owen standing there, holding a box of pizza, a six pack of coke, and a bag of your favorite candy. 

“owen? what are you doing here?” you asked, stepping to the side so that he could walk into your room. “i missed you, and the party was boring. so i thought why not stop by to see my favorite girl, and convince her to watch cloud nine with me,” he said, with a sweet smile on his face as he held the box of pizza out as a peace offering. 

“aww owen. i’d love to,” you replied, taking the food from his hands and setting it down on your desk chair. “good because this would have been so awkward otherwise,” he mumbled. you laughed at his words, standing on your tiptoes to throw your arms around his shoulders, linking your fingers together behind his neck. 

“thank you for coming,” you whispered, looking into his beautiful eyes. “you’re welcome,” he answered, arms tightening around your waist just a bit. “i um…actually i wanted to tell you something,” he mumbled shyly, a nervous look in his eyes. “me too,” you replied, stepping away from him ever so slightly, allowing for some space between you two. “you go first,” he insisted, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. 

you took a breath, taking a moment to appreciate the man standing in front of you. part of you knew that this could be the last time you see him. “i have a crush on you. it’s more than a crush actually, and i’d rather date you for real than be in a fake relationship,” you confessed, twiddling your thumbs as you waited for his answer. 

owen’s mouth parted in shock, and he stood there silently for a couple of minutes before answering. “me too. err well i mean i’d like to date you too, for real,” he explained, causing a large smile to take over your face. you laughed, throwing your arms around his neck as his arms wrapped around your midsection, lifting you in a circle. your laughter echoed through the room as he put you back on the ground. 

“i’m so glad that you asked me to be your fake girlfriend,” you whispered, forehead resting against his. “i’m so glad that i came up with this foolproof plan,” owen replied, and you quirked an eyebrow at that. “well it’s not entirely foolproof,” you teased. “oh really? explain,” he demanded. “we still have an issue of kissing to sort out,” you answered. “ah right. how about i kiss you now? and then again later? how about i kiss you everyday? is that a new rule, one kiss a day?” he asked, leaning in closer to you. “i think more than one kiss a day is fine,” you decided, allowing his lips to meet yours in what could only be described as the best kiss in fake dating to lovers' history.

#owen power #owen power x reader #owen power imagine #owen power blurb #owen power fic #buffalo sabres #umich hockey #owen power 😩 #odp #cobrakaisb writing

[k--havok]

🖊️ for the ask game, for any oc you'd like!

🖊️Body writing? What would they write on their partner(s)? What would they want written on them?

Okay so! This is actually an idea that was floating around for Waking into Divinity! I even wrote a oneshot about it, so I'll go ahead and share that here! It's not writing per se, but demons in Waking into Divinity have special paints they can use on their bodies to amplify or nullify certain feelings and such. There are shapes and specific things they write on themselves in their demonic language, but usually it's related to poetry, sayings, or wishes for good luck.

The oneshot below is a little old in terms of lore, so there are some terms or some worldbuilding that is no longer relevant to the story.

Word count: 6,291 Warnings: Mentions of sex, mentions of violence, old writing Rating: 18+

--

Rylie sighed, smiling to themselves as they scrolled through old pictures on their phone. They leaned back against the couch, lost in their own thoughts. 

“Dinner,” Casrath said as he set a plate down in front of them. “Baked salmon sitting on a bed of asparagus with a glass of chardonnay.”

Rylie glanced up from their phone. “That looks amazing, Casrath. Thank you.”

Casrath grinned at them. “Anything for you, Rylie. I hope my skills have continuously improved for you.”

Rylie flushed. Keeping their phone balanced on one of their knees, they dug into the meal. Their eyes shone as soon as they took a bite of the fish.

“This is amazing. Like… really amazing.” They greedily dug their fork in for another bite. 

Casrath chuckled, his own blush gracing the tops of his ears. “Thank you, Rylie. That means a lot to me.”

As the two ate, Rylie continued to glance at their phone, still smiling, and continuously swiping through pictures. 

“Everything alright? You’re usually not this quiet.”

“Just enjoying the meal. And-- well, looking at some old pictures is all.”

Casrath tilted his head to the side. “Old pictures?”

“Yeah. When me and my parents went to DisneyLand when I was younger. See?” 

Rylie passed over the phone to him. “Um, don’t mind my clear awkwardness and growing pains, okay? I was 16 at the time.” 

“You were precious,” Casrath said, flipping through the pictures as well. In all of them, Rylie wore one of the biggest grins he’d ever seen. A pair of mouse ears sat atop their head in most of them. 

Younger Rylie had the same beautiful jade eyes, the same cute nose, and that same dazzling smile. Their hair may have been much longer, and their clothes a little ill-fitting, but that didn’t matter to Casrath. 

“I loved the Tower of Terror. It was my favorite ride there,” Rylie said. “Everything was amazing, actually. One day I’ll go again.”

Casrath chuckled. “I would take you there, then. If that is what you wish.”

Rylie shook their head, but their grin never fell. “Thank you, Casrath. I honestly miss it… even though I’ve only ever been there once.” 

“I understand all too well, trust me.”

Rylie nodded slowly, finishing their food and their wine. They swirled the last dregs of chardonnay around the bottom of the wine glass. 

“Hey, Casrath? Do you ever miss Hell?”

“Why, of course. You, and Earth, are most welcoming. But Hell is my home.”

A small tinge of red spread across Rylie’s cheeks. They pointedly looked away from Casrath, and swiped through their phone without really seeing the pictures to give their eyes and hands something to do. 

“So-- so I’m guessing… bedding me… isn’t the only reason why you want to take me, right? Or-- or is it?”

Casrath snorted. “That is merely one of many, many reasons, Rylie.” Scooting closer to them, he tapped his knee against theirs. “I would love to show you the lands I’ve conquered, the beauty of my keep, as well as some of the more mystical places. It is not all fire and brimstone, as you put it. There is much beauty there, and is as diverse as Earth, if not moreso.”

“I don’t think I can even imagine all that, but I’d like to try.”

“One day, you won’t have to even imagine,” Casrath murmured. He pressed a tender kiss right above Rylie’s ear. 

A shiver of delight raced down Rylie’s spine, but they tried to ignore it.

“What do you miss most?” Rylie asked instead.

Casrath rubbed his chin between two fingers. He relaxed back on the couch. “That… is a difficult question to answer. I miss many things, none more than another.” He wrapped an arm around Rylie’s waist, pulling them closer to him. 

Rylie could fight against his kisses, but not his touch. Never his touch. They sunk into his warm side, sighing softly. Casrath felt sturdy, strong, and simply comfortable. Although hard muscle covered every inch of his body, when relaxed, he made for the best of pillows. 

“Well, what are some of the things you miss right now? Like… I dunno. On your average Hellish day--” Rylie bit back a small laugh at their own joke, “--what would you be doing after dinner?”

“After dinner? Hm… let me see….” Casrath fell back into his thoughts. He idly rubbed circles with his palm across Rylie’s small love handles. 

“I suppose, after dinnertime, I would see to it that everything is as it should be. No incoming attacks, no major or sudden calls from Court, and I would retire and find whatever entertainment I seek in that moment.”

“What sort of entertainment is that?”

“Sometimes blood sports--”

Casrath paused at Rylie’s horrified look. 

“--I would not be participating, merely watching. It is a common and popular pastime in Hell.”

“Do, uh, demons actually, you know, die?”

“Well… yes. Of course.”

Rylie blinked slowly. “You know, I’m not ready to unpack that right now or process it. I’ll do so later. Uh, what other entertainment is there? That’s, um, not violent?”

“Well, of course there is popping some bottles of wine open and inviting some friends to the keep for a round of drinks. Sometimes I fly across my land, see whatever sights interest me most. Other times, I wish for more…” Casrath paused, and even his hand halted against them. “I suppose carnal pleasures is a fine descriptor.” 

“Ah, sex. Of course.” Rylie rolled their eyes.

“It is not always sex, Rylie. Sometimes I merely like watching--”

“Wait, so you’re a voyeur?” 

“Hm? No, no, you misunderstand me.” Casrath chuckled at that. “Why would I watch what I can have for myself?”

“Some people are into it,” Rylie said with a shrug.

“And that is fine for them, but no. I prefer… watching dancers.” 

Rylie blinked. Then blinked some more. They sat up and away from Casrath, turning in their seat to peer at him. 

“Wait, there are strippers in Hell?” 

“Dancers,” Casrath corrected, “is our term, but yes I suppose so. There are many dances that are performed. Some are separate from myself, and I merely watch. Other times… there is a more active role.” 

Rylie debated with themselves whether or not they wanted to pursue the conversation. Did they really want to know Casrath’s preferences when it comes to inhumanly beautiful demonic dancers?

Unfortunately for Rylie, their curiosity was one hell of a drug. 

“Um, how so?”

“Sometimes I have my concubines dance atop me. Other times, I dance with them. It is… a sensual experience.”

For a full second, Rylie’s brain short-circuited. Concubines. Dancing. On me. With them. Sensual.

Casrath frowned. “Is everything alright? Are-- are you overwhelmed?” Casrath scooted away from Rylie, giving them their distance and personal space back. 

“A-- a little bit,” Rylie admitted softly. “I don’t know whether to focus on the dancing aspect, you joining in, or the fact that you have concubines.” 

“Well, what would you be the most comfortable talking about?” 

“Um, the dancing. Definitely the dancing. Is there, like, poles?”

Casrath chuckled. “No, not exactly. There are many forms of dancing, and all have different requirements. However, no matter the form of dancing, we utilize different paints.”

“Paints? Like on your body?”

“Yes.” Casrath closed his eyes and leaned on his fist. “The paints are usually imbued with magicks. Or, other times, laced with special berries or dyes with… other properties.”

“What sort of properties?”

“Usually the paints enhance pleasure. But other times there are more functional uses, such as giving better stamina, cooling effects, and the like. Some grant enhanced swiftness, and others speed.”

“Sounds like a better use would be for, like, fighting then.”

“They can be used for battle, yes. Our paints--fa’loth is the term--have many, many uses.”

Casrath’s expression--so serene and graceful--pierced Rylie’s chest. Sometimes, they forgot just how far away home was, and how many amenities he was used to having were simply not available. 

Rylie couldn’t quite imagine Hell. They couldn’t imagine the scope of his land, the size of his castle, nor much at all. Everytime they tried, Lord of the Rings inevitably popped into their mind. 

But Rylie was certain Hell was no New Zealand. 

“Yes,” Casrath murmured, more to himself than Rylie. “That is most likely what I would be doing right now.” After stretching his arms out to the ceiling, Casrath climbed to his feet and gathered their empty plates and wine glasses. “But, for now, it is time to do the dishes.”

“Here, let me. Since you cooked,” Rylie said. And before Casrath could object, they took the plates from his hands. “How about you go… and I dunno. You could always go to the club if you want to dance.”

Casrath tilted his head to the side. “Are you certain? I thought you preferred my stay here, rather than out with others.”

Rylie blushed a little at that. “Well, it sounds like you still have some energy left. And you know me, I’m always tired.” Rylie bumped their forehead against his shoulder. Casrath towered so tall above them, that his shoulder was all Rylie could reach with their hands full. 

“If you insist. But I shall not be gone all night long. I shall return before dawn, and before you wake.”

Rylie smiled at Casrath. “That’s no problem. Now, go and get ready.”

Casrath chuckled at their impatience. “Perhaps you are simply wanting some quiet, alone time inside. In either case, I do not mind.”

Rylie smiled at Casrath, but didn’t respond. 

It was true that sometimes, they did indeed want their quiet time alone. But tonight?

Tonight, Rylie had a plan tumble its way through their thoughts. 

As soon as the dishes were washed, Casrath gone, and Beepers settled in for the night, Rylie curled on top of their bed with their laptop. 

They didn’t mention it to, well, anyone really, but they had taken pole dancing classes before. Only a handful, before the cost outweighed their food budget. Their curiosity had taken hold of them during that time, and since their parents had already moved by then and weren’t watching their every move, Rylie thought it would be a fun activity they could try.

Fun was the best descriptor for their time pole dancing. The second was exhausting. The last, expensive. But all of it was totally worth it. 

They didn’t have a pole in their apartment to dance on. And besides the basics, they didn’t know too much. But with the slight knowledge of exotic dancing as a backbone, Rylie figured it wouldn’t be too hard to google around for some tips on lap dancing. 

Rylie didn’t bother to pretend it was the wine causing them to think in such a way. Living for so long with someone so incredibly handsome, who had the best kisses and touches, and who always knew what to say to make their knees weak left Rylie reeling. 

Their stomach twisted with a mess of butterflies and nerves as Rylie fought to keep their focus on the task at hand. They didn’t have long, but they wanted to do this impromptu… dance routine right the first time. 

Getting up from their laptop, Rylie dug through their dresser before finding, stashed at the very bottom, a set of Victoria's Secret lingerie with tags still attached. With it in hand, they meandered into their bathroom. They didn’t keep much makeup on hand--they barely had a use for the stuff. However, after digging through one of the many messy bathroom drawers, Rylie dug out an old set of Halloween makeup hidden beneath cotton swabs they did indeed use inside their ears along with the extra free toothbrushes as given by their dentist.

Rylie barely glanced at the date as they tore into the red, orange, green, and black body paints and glitter. Glitter held no interest for them, but they greedily grabbed the red, orange, and black.

Rylie avoided looking at themselves in the mirror as they undressed. They couldn’t afford losing their courage and confidence now. Not after tasting phantom kisses on their lips and with heat already pooling in the lowest pit of their stomach. 

Keeping their head down, Rylie cut the tags off the unused lingerie. An impulse buy with the aid of Jess whispering terrible decisions into their ears as well as a sale, Rylie regretted it as soon as they had gotten home with the little lacy number. Black on black, the bra had not just loops of lace and frills, but an underwire with plenty of padding. Unlike their sports or even balconette bras, this one had a deep plunge in the center. The underwear matched, of course, with high-waisted black straps separate from the lacy piece. As the only thong in their closet, Rylie found themselves more than a bit mystified as they slipped it on over their rear. 

A deep sigh worked its way between their lips. They wiggled and squirmed as they fought to get the unrelenting bra over their head without having to undo the strap in the back. 

Rylie hated the “swing it around” method. It always rubbed rough against their skin and nipples. 

Still keeping their head down, Rylie bit their lip. Did they dare look up into the mirror?

They already know what they would see. A fat slob. Unproportionate, with a belly that hung just a little too over the hem of the panties. Their breasts already felt off in the plunge bra as well. It felt like every movement would cause them to pop out in the front. And already, the tops of their breasts were spilling out. 

Rylie sighed through their nose slowly before peering up at themselves. 

Flush with heat and wine, Rylie froze as they stared at themselves. 

Indeed, their hair sat messy atop their head. Their skin remained blotchy. But the underwear didn’t hide in their chub rub or thick thighs. The high bands accented their hips, while simultaneously the black color slimmed their ass and breasts down. 

The bra was ill-fitting, but for once was too tight, not way too big. Victoria’s Secret was always weird in its sizing, Rylie supposed. They turned around, and bit their lip at the sight of their entire exposed butt. 

They had to admit, it did make their ass look good. And although the bra shoved their breasts up an uncomfortable amount that Rylie was not used to, they found that they didn’t… hate the set as they so vehemently thought they would. 

In fact, although the bra was ill-fitting, the thong remained surprisingly comfortable. They already didn’t feel the string, and it reminded them of not wearing any underwear at all, almost. 

Rylie smiled softly at themselves in the mirror. “Who knew,” they murmured to themselves. 

Grabbing the black Halloween makeup first, Rylie tilted their head in thought as they squirted a little of the paint onto the tip of their finger. Not dry, but definitely getting up there in age. Best to use it now then later, they supposed. 

In a way its saving money. Rylie chuckled. 

After debilitating a little too long at themselves in the mirror, Rylie decided to use the black on their eyelids in a mockery of eyeshadow. Afterwards, they grabbed their cheap eyeliner and slapped it on as well. 

The green of their eyes popped against the black background of their eyes and… outfit. They hesitated before adding any more. What else could they do that wouldn’t look too stupid and costume-y?

They stood alone in the bathroom for several minutes on end, going back and forth as to what to do. A quick Google search also brought nothing useful to the table, either. Rylie couldn’t quite understand what Casrath wanted and would look for. 

Furthermore, they didn’t want to assume. It was his culture, not theirs, after all. 

After a short and quick two-step pace in the bathroom, Rylie gathered up the costume makeup and instead left to the living room to put them on the coffee table. 

Digging out a packet of tea lights Casrath bought just in case the power went out again, Rylie set them up around the apartment. Checking the clock, Rylie waited another ten minutes before lighting all of them.

Several sat on the bar guarding the kitchen, four boxed in the line of costume makeup they left on the table for Casrath to use as he wished on them, and several more on the windowsill and next to the TV. After flicking the lights off, a hazy glow rose from the little candles, bathing the room in small and smokey clouds of light yellow. The flames flickered and danced, casting soft and playful shadows against the walls and furniture. 

Rylie bit their lip as their heart thudded in their chest. It had taken them nearly three hours. It was almost time. 

Their hands shook as they sat on the couch, curling one leg under another and leaning back. Rylie couldn’t quite fight the urge to bounce their leg. Biting their lower lip, a sudden small wave of nausea grew as the minutes stretched on. 

Perhaps they had too much wine to drink. Way too much. Or perhaps it was somehow laced with something. Casrath would never do something so devious. Or would he?

No, Rylie shook themselves, he would never. 

A tide of gooseflesh rose across their arms. They shivered. The candles brought barely any heat, and Rylie never liked sitting in practically no clothes at all. No insulation meant no heat. 

As a child, Rylie never thought through their decisions. They would always act before thinking, and would sometimes act through several steps of a process before realizing how wrong they were. Such as in science class, when they measured their baking soda and vinegar wrong to the point where the mixture bubbled over and across their table. Or, even worse, when they thought Maxwell Grant liked them since he kept pulling on their ponytail. Just the idea of a boy liking them, at that time, caused them to have a crush. 

The fallout of their confession of that elementary school crush still sometimes popped up in their nightmares. 

Now, Rylie found themselves sitting on a precipice. If they didn’t stop now, didn’t blow out all the candles, run into their room, change, and clean up quickly, the point of no return would come and go without them. And they would fall. 

Muscles tensed, Rylie sat up. All too soon, however, that familiar creak of the front door echoed through their apartment. 

Panic surged through them. Gripping the edge of the couch, Rylie’s eyes darted around. Grabbing a blanket off the end of the couch, they flung it around themselves, blocking the sight of their body as Casrath poked into the apartment. 

He blinked slowly, looking around at the candles before his eyes settled on Rylie. A soft smile tugged at his lips. 

“What’s all this?” he asked. 

Tongue-tied and still vibrating with anxiety, Rylie shrugged, unable to form words. They tugged the blanket tighter around themselves. 

Casrath moved smoothly over to their side, gliding across the carpet. He took off his leather jacket and hung it next to theirs on the wall. 

Rylie couldn’t stop their eyes from drifting to how his plain orange tee-shirt hugged his biceps all too tightly. Their body, already heated, flushed further. The fact that he wore his jeans way too low on his sculpted hips also didn’t help. As Casrath sat besides them, Rylie caught the whiff of alcohol on his breath.

But no musk. No sweat. No stench of sex clung to his body like a second skin. No lipstick stains covered swollen lips. Besides a soft blush and his easy smile, nothing else seemed out of place. 

Casrath eyed them and the costume makeup on the table. He shifted closer to Rylie, wrapping an arm around them. 

“Your eyes are mesmerizing in this light,” he whispered to them, his voice dark and husky. “And you painted them.” His fingers caressed their cheek, leaving ghostly trails of heat. 

That damned frog remained in Rylie’s throat. They nodded, unable to meet his gaze. 

Casrath hummed to himself. His fingers traveled lower to their neck, and he traced circles all the way down to the soft spot between their throat and their clavicle. 

Rylie tensed as Casrath thumbed the erogenous zone. A shiver danced up their spine. 

His eyes, heavy-lidded and dark with desire, flashed. “May I kiss you?” 

“Yes,” Rylie finally said. Their voice came out cracked from disuse and nerves. 

Casrath leaned in, dusted his lips over theirs, before dipping his head down and kissing at that small spot he just thumbed. 

Shocks of desire raced through Rylie’s body. A small sigh escaped and they tilted their head to the side, allowing Casrath further access to their throat as he bathed them in small kisses. His tongue darted out, swirling against every particular sensitive spot, leaving Rylie wanton. 

Their speechlessness finally broke, Rylie licked their lips with their dry tongue. “Cas?” 

“Hmm?” he murmured against their throat as he nuzzled them. 

“R- Remember our conversation from- from earlier? Today? Before you- Before you left?”

“Of course. I remember all our conversations, Ree.” 

Rylie’s brain short circuited again briefly. Mentally shaking themselves, they continued, “well… I know you miss your home and- and such and- well- you see. You see, I wanted to- wanted to do something nice for you. And you know, I thought. I thought, um--”

Casrath leaned in and silenced them with a long kiss. His tongue darted against their lower lip. 

Rylie moaned, and Casrath swallowed it gleefully. He nipped their tongue as Rylie tried to return the previous gesture. 

They pulled back with a small gasp, their face glowing pink, and peered up at him shyly. 

His voice, deeper than before, resonated with a dark timbre. “Will you be dancing for me, Rylie?”

Rylie nodded, unable to find their words yet again.

Casrath released them, and stood up to push the coffee table away from the couch to allow Rylie plenty of space. As he did so, he picked up the costume makeup. 

“I- I didn’t quite know what- what you wanted so… I know its not the same and the makeup is old but….”

Casrath held out a hand for them. 

Rylie hesitated. If they stood up, the blanket would fall away. They gulped. 

“Do you trust me?” he asked. 

“It’s not a matter of trust.”

Rylie hesitated again. 

“It’s a matter of tempered expectations.”

Casrath sighed through his nose. “What do you think my expectations are?”

Rylie looked away, frowning. “Whatever beautiful men, women, and enbies you had in Hell. Stronger, faster, with more stamina than any human.” Rylie scrunched up their nose. “Probably fitter and more flexible too.” 

Casrath’s hand remained hovering in the air. 

“And yet,” he said, “I have never had the pleasure of my tal’rith dancing for me. Nor the pleasure of a human doing so much to accommodate my needs and understand my culture. 

Rylie shrugged again. “That’s… that’s just the bare minimum, though.” 

“Not to me,” Casrath said. 

Rylie stared at his proffered hand, their heart thumping hard in their chest, and a bead of sweat rolling down the side of their temple. A burst of energy coursed through them, tensing their leg muscles. Far from the type to run, Rylie knew that, in that moment, they could have sprinted with ease. 

Rylie slid their hand into Casrath’s.

No more running. 

Rylie pulled themselves to their feet with Casrath’s assistance. The blanket fell away, revealing every inch of skin. Immediately, Rylie looked down at their bare feet, their entire face glowing in another blush as a second bead of sweat traced down the back of their neck. 

“Rylie.” Casrath’s fingers tilted their chin up. His eyes bore into their own.

They bit their lip, gulping again, shivering and sweating at the same time. 

For once, Casrath struggled to speak. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, then breathed their name a second time. His eyes roamed over their face before dropping to the rest of their body. Rylie tensed, curling their shoulders in on themselves, and crossing their arms over their pelvis. 

Breasts were breasts. But any further…. 

Casrath gathered them in his arms, pulling them close to his body before diving down to press a kiss against their lips. 

This kiss-- oh.

Rylie gasped, parting their lips for him to explore their mouth. They moaned again, pressing their own tongue against him to taste him back. This kiss-- this kiss had heat. It had teeth, as Rylie took the initiative for the first time, and nibbled on Casrath’s lower lip. 

This time, it was Casrath who gasped. And as he pulled away slightly, Rylie pressed onward. A surge of confidence filled them as they pressed their tongue into his mouth. 

Casrath’s mouth ran hotter than their own. The tips of his fangs brushed against them as they tasted alcohol on his breath, the scent of ash, and something woody and natural beneath. Almost like pine, but just off enough to give them pause. Casrath did not proceed in the opening Rylie gave him, but continued to allow them to explore his mouth just as fervently. 

All the while, his hands traveled down their back. He stroked their hips, running his hand from the top of that second black band, down the flesh it pinched outward and accented, and further down to their lower hip and leg. His hands circled back around, and ghosted up the round hill of their ass.

Rylie tensed for a squeeze that didn’t happen. 

Pulling away, Rylie gasped as the need of air overcame their own desires. They panted, staring up at Casrath with wide and wild eyes. 

The strange and sudden confidence didn’t diminish. It still worked its way through them, touching every nerve. For once, Rylie didn’t allow their brain to run freely ahead of them. They acted before thinking, grabbing Casrath’s hands and spinning the two of them around as to switch their positions. 

Casrath fell back against the couch, sinking into it. He spread his legs out and stared up at Rylie. They recognized that look of lust and hunger, with his lip partially curled, exposing a bit of his fangs. 

Perhaps the wine from earlier had been a good idea, Rylie mused for just half a second before realizing, with one last thought, that they had almost forgotten the music. 

“Casrath,” Rylie murmured, and the voice which came from their mouth was unrecognizable to them; dark, heavy with want, and smooth. “Would you mind putting some music of your choice on? Something… slow.” They tossed their phone to him. 

Casrath easily caught the phone mid-air. After a bit of fiddling, a low, sultry tune slunk its way out of the tiny speakers. Piano-based, but with a hint of string and a saxophone. He set the phone down to the side. 

“Perfect,” Rylie said, and they proceeded to shut the rest of their thoughts out. 

They placed their hands on Casrath’s knees, and slid their body between them. Shifting their weight from foot-to-foot, they shook their hips back and forth. 

A long sigh escaped from Casrath’s nose as Rylie used their fingers to walk their hands up his legs, bobbing their head and shaking their hips in-time to the slow, waltzing music. Before their hands reached his crotch, they let go, standing back up to instead drag their own fingers down the side of their face, and then further down the side of their breast. 

Rylie allowed their eyes to fall shut and submitted themselves to the will of the music. They continued to dance, following altered steps of their previous pole-dancing class. The steps remained small as they danced closer and closer to Casrath, trailing their own hands down their body, across their face, chest, and hips. 

As they opened their eyes, Rylie reminded themselves that they were not the flexible type before trying to fling their leg over his shoulder. Instead, they slid their leg against the outside of Casrath’s, leaning forwards, and planting their knee next to his hip. 

Rylie sighed softly against Casrath’s lips, which now were only a few inches away. 

Casrath fidgeted. His eyes continued to roam over their entire body. His chest rose and fell in his own hard pants as he sat, tensed as a bow string. 

Rylie shot him a cheeky grin. 

That broke Casrath. He lunged forward, hooking his fingers around their hips, and dragging them onto his lap and into another dizzying kiss. A growl mingled with a purr rumbled in his chest, nearly drowning out the music. He ravaged Rylie’s lips, but rather than submitting, Rylie’s own deluge of an attack met him. 

They bit back harder, rubbed their tongue just as hard against his, and kissed his lips just as swollen as theirs. Rylie locked their fingers behind his neck, leveraging themselves to better position themselves on his lap. 

Casrath shifted beneath them as well, pulling them ever closer into his chest. Rylie’s knees sat outside Casrath’s upper thighs and their clothed crotch sat right above his own. 

With their heart still beating hard in their throat, Rylie pulled away from Casrath to gasp for air. Their hands and body no longer shook with unwarranted shivers. 

Casrath’s purr remained, and he rubbed circles into their hips with his warm palms. The touch was neither soft nor too rough. 

They sat back, peering down at Casrath with their head cocked to the side, barely a thought sparking in their mind. 

Casrath stared up at them with ever darker eyes. That demonic orange flame within raged, but for now, remained contained. 

The music, that soft piano, teasing string, and playful sax, still swirled around the both of them. 

Rylie smirked. Catching the beat of the music, they shifted their weight back and forth, a slow start to build to a full gyration. 

Casrath released a long, low moan at Rylie’s machinations. As Rylie rocked their hips back and forth along Casrath’s crotch, they trailed their fingers across his clothed chest, tracing nonsense shapes into the fabric. They watched, enraptured, as his eyes fluttered close and his lips parted yet again as another moan escaped from him. 

Heat pooled in their lower belly, and Rylie felt something unfamiliar, but all too knowable, shift beneath them as he hardened. It brought yet another smirk to Rylie’s lips, but this one a little more uncertain. 

When Casrath’s eyes flashed open, Rylie braced themself to be flipped around, for those lips to crash into theirs and for him to seize and conquer them. But instead, Casrath leaned in, and traced his nose against their own. His hands left their hips as he picked up the fallen costume makeup from the couch, and popped the lid open.

“May... I- I paint you?” Casrath breathed against their lips. His words bled into his heavy pants. 

Rylie merely nodded. 

Casrath squirted orange paint onto his fingers. He rubbed his fingers together, smoothing and thinning out the paint, before reaching up to brush his fingers along Rylie’s neck. 

Rylie shivered as the cold paint met their heated flesh. 

Rylie couldn’t see what Casrath was doing, but they could feel his fingers as he painted long, jagged lines down either side of their throat. He curled those lines toward their clavicles, before lifting his fingers, and then painting an unrecognizable, geometrical symbol. 

Casrath continued his own machinations, trailing his fingers to continue similar symbols on Rylie’s shoulders and down their arms. Rylie glanced down, watching as Casrath curled the paint around their biceps before drawing the same symbol on the back of their hands. 

The symbol was a simple one; a polygon with 6 sides, and yet in a shape similar to that of a Valentine heart. A dot between the sqggggggggggggguncertainty hitting them like a freight train. Up to this point, without a mirror, Rylie easily ignored the presence of their stomach. They didn’t have to look and see how it hung over the hem of their panties. Nor did they have to pay attention to how it already pressed forward and into Casrath’s own muscular front before even their breasts did. 

Not that they wanted that. A flatter stomach by itself would have been fine. 

Slowly, Rylie squeezed their eyes and shook their head back and forth. No. Not right now. Not when they had been on top for so long--

“Okay,” Casrath murmured, and his lips ghosted against Rylie’s once more in a tender kiss. The cold touch of his painted fingers brushed along their hips and thighs. “Is this better then?”

Rylie nodded. They leaned their forehead against Casrath’s. Carefully, with Casrath guiding their hips as he painted them, Rylie started to gyrate their hips once more. 

It was hard not to brush against his erection. Contained by thick denim against the side of his leg, everytime Rylie found themselves accidentally brushing their wet panties against it, Casrath shuddered. Using his shoulders as leverage, Rylie once again caught the wave of the looping music, and dove back into their wicked dance. 

Rylie played with Casrath’s hair as he decorated their body further with the red costume makeup. This time, he added details to the orange markings, crossing over the previous orange lines in twisted and detailed filigree. Casrath traced a line of red following their temples down to their jaw, curving beneath and connecting it to the orange alongside the sides of their neck. 

His heavy breathing continued to billow against their face with every shared touch. 

And as Rylie found themself lost within the sensation of his hands and the music, a soft moan slipped past their lips as they continuously ground against Casrath’s need. 

Then, he started to grind back. He snapped his hips upwards, rubbing himself back against them. 

God. 

Heat pooled in their own core, winding it tighter and tighter. 

And as Casrath reached around to grab a massive handful of their ass, squeezing hard and pushing them down against him harder, Rylie found themselves whimpering softly at their own need. 

Their eyes flashed open. They were not the fittest, and as such, already their hips and knees were beginning to hurt with the effort of keeping themselves upward. 

Casrath didn’t close his eyes, nor did they leave Rylie’s form. He raked his sight up and down their body as he continued to squeeze and fondle their ass, pressing them further down into him. He leaned in, but rather than kiss their lips, he instead nipped their clavicle before moving downwards to press the flat of his tongue against the tops of their breasts. 

He dragged his tongue in a long, sizzling lick across the top of their chest. He pressed another kiss between their breasts, right where their cleavage began. 

Rylie threw their head back as Casrath dragged another moan out of them. 

“We- we need to stop. I- I mean. I don’t want to but--” Rylie panted. 

A growl rumbled in Casrath’s chest, but with a long sigh, he pulled back. His eyes remained dark, his eyebrows drawn in, and his mouth parted in heavy breaths. 

“Yes. Yes, I-- if we do not….”

Casrath wrapped his arms around Rylie. He shifted their weight, tucking them into his chest. He buried his face into the top of their head, breathing deeply. 

“...If we do not, I will not be able to stop myself any longer from taking you right here,” Casrath murmured. 

Rylie flushed, but they nodded. “Oh.” They bit back their words, their begs for Casrath to give in for once. For him to flip them around, pull off his pants, and for him to fuck them right into the couch. 

No, Rylie told themself. We can’t. Not yet. It’s not time yet. 

“You-- you are a devious one, Rylie Hill,” Casrath said with a small chuckle underlining his words. He easily picked Rylie up off his lap to instead tuck them into his side rather than on his noticeable erection. 

“Only sometimes,” Rylie said. The smirk didn’t drop from their lips. “I- I don’t know if I did anything right. I’ve never really given anyone a, uh, lapdance before. But- but I wanted to do something nice for you. I don’t know.” They looked away as their senses came trickling back, and with it, embarrassment. “Sorry if I was heavy.”

“Rylie….” Casrath leaned his cheek on the top of their head. Picking the blanket up off the ground, he draped it over the both of them before turning the music off and hugging Rylie close. 

“You were wonderful. I do not have words in this language to explain how much what you did means to me. Nor do I have words to express just how much I enjoyed you.”

Rylie flushed. “Um, I don’t think you need words….” they glanced down at Casrath’s now covered lap. 

Casrath chuckled. “Indeed. But no, you are not heavy to me at all, Rylie. I am much stronger than I look.” He nuzzled the top of their head. “I- I know you will want to wash up soon, but- but do you mind staying here, with me, for a little longer?”

Rylie smiled softly. “Oh, Cas….” They turned, and pressed the smallest of kisses against his lips. “I don’t want to leave yet either. I can wash up in a little bit.”

Casrath’s purr grew louder. He picked Rylie up to put them back in his lap, but this time he held them almost bridal-style -- settling their head against his shoulder. 

“Perfect.”

#writeblr #writeblr community #my writing #lanx writes #am writing #writers on tumblr #wid #waking into divinity #casrath #rylie #old writing

[stoned-kitties]

I fucking hate poetry.

Don’t get me wrong, I used to love poetry. When I was severely depressed, I used to lay in bed and scroll through the poetry tag on tumblr and feel every word I read. It made my bones ache and my chest heavy but I was comforted by the fact that someone else could put my feelings into words better than I could.

I’m better now. Days are brighter and it’s easier to get out of bed in the morning.

3/29/17

I started writing this right before shit went downhill and my entire life fell apart before my eyes. I am not better. I don’t feel anything anymore.

9/26/17

I don’t know how I am. I’m not perpetually depressed, I do have good days. I can laugh. I can smile. But some days I can’t get out of bed. Some days there is still a dark cloud hanging over me. Most days I don’t feel anything. I’m making myself numb at this point. I know I’m doing it, I know exactly when I’m doing it. But I don’t care to stop myself. I don’t care to tell myself, “hey, you should probably stop burying your feelings,” because I already know. I already know how bad it’s going to hurt and I can’t deal with it. Sometimes it creeps up, before I have a chance to detach myself. It’s a burning sensations. It starts in the tips of my ears and fingers and toes. It travels through my veins straight to my chest. It feels like I’m breathing fire at first before I can’t breathe at all. And eventually it turns into a nothingness. I feel hollow. I feel nothing. You took everything I had left.

12/09/17

I miss the hell out of you. I miss being happy when you blew up my phone to come over. I miss being excited when I saw your name. It will always come back to you. I will always compare everyone to you. But I just can’t look at you the same anymore. I do still love you. I think a little part of me will love you forever, but it will never be in quite the same way.

4/7/18

You moved. I hardly see you now. You’re 20 minutes away rather than 5. I know that’s not a huge difference, but it feels like you’re really far away. Theres no more smoking in your garage all day. There’s no more fighting over the comfy chair. You don’t call me at 6am to come over and sit in my car with you in your driveway anymore. We don’t fish in your pond, we don’t lay in your bed while I watch you play Forza. You don’t call me anymore. Part of me feels as though all of this happened just because I was right there, close by. Convenient for you. But the other part of me still believes there was something. You put so much time into me, and it’s hard to believe that it all meant nothing. I still miss the fucking shit out of you. I know you love her. I know you want her. I’m trying to move on. I really am. But trying to forget the happiest times of my life isn’t easy. This is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. I really fucking love you.

4/14/18

I found someone new. It may be too early to be writing about this, but he makes me happy. He is loving, and caring, and he looks at me like I put the stars in the sky. He tells me I’m perfect every day. He tells me I am everything he wants, and no one else matters. I hate sleeping in the same bed with someone else, but I sleep like a baby when he’s next to me. He is the first person that makes me forget about you. Everything you did seems so small now. All of the pain you put me through doesn’t matter anymore. I can feel again. And I’m feeling nothing but love.

It’s too late for you and me. I’m accepting that. I loved you with everything I had. I looked at you like you put the stars in the sky. There was a time when I couldn’t imagine a life without you. But here I am, living it. Godspeed.

5/8/2018

I wish you would let me go. You called me at 5:20 this morning and I didn’t answer. I didn’t know it was a cry for help. I never answer your calls and you still tried. That’s how I knew it was important. I should’ve answered.

Sometimes I still miss you. I still care about you. I think I always will. As soon as I saw that that phone call was a cry for help I immediately had to know that you were okay. Why don’t you call your girlfriend? Why don’t you talk to her? Why did you call me? Of all people? And you’re still seeing her today but still want to talk to me about your problem? I want to be there for you. I want to be your friend. I want to be able to do this. But I just don’t know if I want to be part of your life or if I just want you to forget about me.

5/2/2019

I still miss you all the time. Lots of things remind me of you. Sometimes I wish nothing had ever happened between us because I just miss having you as a friend. We are still friends, but nothing will ever be the same as it was. We’ll never be the same as we were. And that’s okay, I guess. I’m happy now. I’m planning a future with the love of my life. Pieces of the puzzle that I never even knew existed are falling together. We are going to have the life we always wanted. And I don’t think that’s something you and I could have achieved together. So this is for the best. I will always, always think of you every time I drive by a Wendy’s or hear a Post Malone song. I will always remember the time I shared with you. It is something that holds a special corner of my heart all to itself. You helped me grow in ways I didn’t think were possible. I will cherish that forever. I hope you have an unforgettable incredible life, and just know that I will remember your name until the day I die.

10/1/2019

We don’t talk anymore. You text me every couple of months to ask for wax. But we don’t talk, we don’t hang out, we don’t do anything. I think this is for the best. Every time I see you, it still stings. I don’t need you anymore.

11/9/2019

I’m so fucking stupid because I found all of our old texts on my computer and I read all of them and it gave me such a fucking knot in my stomach and I hated it every second of it but I still miss you so fucking bad. I still love you and I fucking hate it. I fucking hate you for all of this I wish we had never fucking met you have screwed me over twice in my fucking life and now I’m ruined because of it. I’m fucking ruined. I wish I had never loved you. I love Aaron with my whole heart and he makes me so fucking happy but I don’t love him like I love you. You were everything to me. I will never love somebody the way I love you. Never. It was so special. It was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. You were my best fucking friend. I spent EVERY! DAY! WITH YOU! for MONTHS!! Sun up to sun down. If you were going people expected me to be there too. If I was going you were expected to be there too. We. Us. Me and you. Always. Nothing will ever be the same. I will never feel that same feeling for anyone else. I felt like I understood you and you understood me. We laughed until we couldn’t fucking BREATHE and we screamed along to songs together and we did all of our adventuring together and I just want to fucking SCREAM at the TOP of my fucking lungs because I am so fucking sad and I HATE myself for still loving you!!!! It’s been almost three years since this ended but I still fucking think about you every single day. Something always makes me think of you. I still remember the day you kissed me in your driveway and I still remember how I felt like I was living in a movie because everything felt so fucking perfect. You dropped the beer on the ground to grab my face and kissed me hard with both hands pulling me closer to you and you said this felt real and it felt right and it should’ve happened a long time ago and you pushed me up against the hood of my car and kissed me and kissed me and kissed me and I never ever wanted it to fucking stop. We slept in your bed and I loved it and I love you and I loved waking up to your stupid sleepy face and asking me “is the sun out yet?” With droopy eyelids and bed head and that image is burned into my memory for the rest of my life because it was the only moment that I’ve ever felt completely at peace. I felt like I was home. You were my home. I knew I loved you before that moment but that was it for me. That was me swallowing the key and signing my life away to you because that’s all I needed. I just needed to wake up to your face every morning. Nothing else in the whole fucking world mattered except you and this moment and I never want to wake up from this dream because it has to be a dream. And that’s all it was. A fucking dream. I will never love anybody the same way I love you. And this is me realizing I have to live the rest of my life with every single memory of you stitched into my brain. I will never forget it. I will never forget us. I will never forget you. I’m so fucking in love with you.

12/16/22

Yeah. I started this five years ago.

If you wanna get technical, it’s been since 2016. I feel just as pathetic about it today as I did then.

There’s nothing left to hold on to other than my memories. I wish the friendship was still there, but this is what friendships as adults are supposed to be like, right? Significant others come first. She’s pregnant and you’re going to be a dad and that’s that, right?

Right.

This will never be the same. This will never change. I’ll probably never stop loving you and even if you did, you probably stopped loving me a long time ago.

I’ll never admit it. I’ll never tell you. This is the end of whatever is left of this.

I guess I’m ready to post this now.

#personal

[hey-its-isaac]

regarding september 3rd, being 15, and heartbreak

this account was originally made because i wanted to write poetry

i just ended up repurposing it, which is why i had already had one at the time. made it in january 2018, hey its isaac

prior to now, that would've been the lowest point of my life. i never talked about this much, but i hated myself. looking back, what i did was the right and mature thing. i didnt go into a relationship i wasn't ready for. i didn't talk about how i felt though, because i wasn't the one that was hurt. not in my mind, anyway. i became quite the bad person from that self-hatred. but is any 15 year old good?

i didn't see it as a mature decision as i do now however. back then i thought i was a monster. i fell into a horrible depression. i starved myself because that's what i thought a depressed person should do. i ended up below 100 pounds. i don't think i ever said this, but that's what i wanted.

i wanted people to notice, but i panicked when they did. i had an eating disorder, i don't know if i mentioned that ever. it was self-inflicted, but i had it nonetheless. i would pull up bmi calculators often, hoping it would show i was anorexic. i was obsessed, i thank god there wasn't a scale in the house. it took years to correct it, one of which i spent in the same white zip-up hoodie everyday. threw it out, don't like to look at it much now.

even now its kind of hard to resist that urge - especially now when i hate how gaining weight looks on me. one thing ive got going for me, and i'm not too humble to acknowledge, is i do have significant pretty privilege. and well - i wear the tired rotting look well, and i know people find me attractive. a little egotistical i guess, but i see the reactions i get. i know im treated differently.

people like me. people liked me in high school. liberal moderately/ironically funny skinny guy, people like that i guess. countless people i was either too dumb to see liked me - or i just didn't want to see at the time. i was a good kid, loyal to a friend, or perhaps my own anxiety.

it's unfortunate for them they like me, i suppose.

i digress, that period of depression extended out.. into forever, maybe. maybe a brief period of feeling better in late 2019 (coincidentally when i gained some confidence and alone time), before it all got bad again. then steady downhill climb, steep dropoff, and wherever we are now

holding a person's life in your hands does something to you. being the reason someone is still breathing the next morning is a lot of pressure. that certainly didn't help me back then.

somebody had to do it, however. and i suppose i'd prefer that she be alive today, even with the effects it has had on me to this day. i don't wish death on anybody, and would give myself up for others.

unfortunately for me.

people gravitate to me. people tell me their deepest secrets and traumas. i don't know why. im kind. i listen. i suppose i feel safe to people. in the time i've spent drifting since march, people have grown close to me. people have gotten hurt for this, out of my own mistakes, my distance, me as a person, but i'd like to think i've provided more good than bad. i do try

i don't know what it is about me that makes me different. but i know that i am. that's something me and her shared, our effect on people. i'm not surprised we were so horrible together. picture two positive magnets. a powerful attractive force, but we repel when together. well, scratch that, probably a powerful negative force.

i've never ever felt like i was where i was supposed to be in life. i know where i need to go though. and i'll get there one day. i mean, i've got time. and there's time for the YA romance to come through for me still. wouldn't mind dating a cute boy sometime. scrolling back in this tumblr, who would've guessed i was bi lol.

i still do like poetry, but i'm no good at writing it. but i do like to be symbolic and mysterious , as this seems to show

for such a privileged and well off person, i've managed to make every wrong decision possible. i've made what could have been the easiest life in the world a hellscape. and i only seem to be making it worse. there's a path to make it better, and im following it. surely things can't always be like this, i don't want to be another tragedy.

well, i just felt like this account, which once meant a lot to me, deserved a proper sendoff.

so, there it is.

see you in oregon,

isaac jae

[fbfh]

I think you've horribly misread the situation [shitty roommate pt 2] - leo x reader

wc: 2.3k

genre: contemporary drama, you're definitly going to get second hand embarrassment, cozy fluff

pairing: leo x reader, attempted isabella x leo

reader: gender neutral, they/them

requested: hell yeah

warnings: mild swearing, roommate tries to steal your man once again, mentions of various mainstream vampire media (twilight, the vampire diaries etc.), brief mention of castlevania (even though i haven't seen it yet lol), breif mention of videogames and assassins creed, very mild delusion (roommate is secretly convinced leo is a vampire that's in love with her), attempted age gap relationship (she's 17 and leo's 19, he shuts that down real fast), very bad poetry

summary: You and Leo are both looking foward to spending a long weekend together, and Leo is determined not to let anything interrupt it, even if it means turning down your roommate's attempts to seduce him in the kitchen.

a/n: absolutley no hate or shade or judgement to anyone who has the same or similar traits as isabella!!!!!! at her core she's annoying because she's the antagonist, not bc of any isolated trait or traits

also she's shitty cause she keeps trying to steal your boyfriend?????

Edit: I forgot to mention before, but this is a college au where you're both still demigods, so you went to camp and on quests and stuff together

This weekend is going to be all about recharging. Recharging from the ridiculous back to back closing and opening shifts at work, recharging from having to redo that stupid project twice because your professor couldn’t decide on a clear way to define the criteria, and recharging from Isabella having her townie friend Regan over almost non stop to “completely shake up her look” as she put it.

Between the constant presence of someone you’d barely consider an acquaintance and Big Time Rush’s self titled album blasting on repeat out of her giant airpod shaped speaker, it’s been harder than usual to get in some effective self care. You have no idea how many more times you can hear the phrase “I’m going for Jade West meets Elena Gilbert, with just a little Buffy Summers” before you lose your fucking mind.

Thankfully, the hard part is almost over. There’s some minor holiday tomorrow on friday, so you and Leo both have a three day weekend ahead of you, which you intend to spend entirely together. You planned ahead, frontloading homework, chores, errands, and everything you could think of to remove anything that isn’t cuddling or playing video games and watching netflix together from your horizon.

This includes going straight from work to the grocery store to stock the fridge and get any snacks you and Leo want. You had texted him a while ago asking for anything he was craving, and head into the store with a concrete list. After a while, you circle around some aisles, avoiding the check out.

“I feel like I’m forgetting something,” you muse, knowing it’s untrue, but hoping to trigger a memory anyway. You can’t put it off any longer, finally checking out and heading back to your apartment. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t avoiding Isabella just a little.

You know bringing in all these groceries would be way easier with Isabella and possibly Regan’s help, but you just don’t have the social energy to talk to anyone, much less her, right now. By some miracle, you bring everything in yourself, and hope to get it put away before you see Isabella.

You turn to the freezer, putting away the ice cream. When you turn back around, you’re suddenly met face to face with Isabella, who has opened one of the boxes and is picking at a pastry.

“Hey girlie,” she says, elongating the hey.

“Hey,” you reply lethargically, putting the last of the groceries away. She looks at the pastry in her hand like she’s just noticing it.

“Sorry, I can’t help it, I’m italian.” She smiles, endeared by her own behavior. You have no idea what being italian has to do with asking before you open a box of your roommate’s food, but this really isn’t out of character for her. She brings up the fact that she’s half italian more than Lele Pons blames her behavior on being latina.

She’s wearing sweatpants that say chaser on the leg in red and gold varsity font, and a tight tee shirt that says “it’s okay to love them both” with silhouettes of the male love interests from one of the vampire shows she always watches. You collect the plastic bags to put in recycling, and see a piece of paper on the counter.

It reads as follows:

Drowning in my mind

No one hears me cry

Who was I before society

Before society put me in a pink dress

And handed me blonde hair dye

And told me to lose ten pounds or be labeled a freak?

The happiest people cry the most

Let the lyrics be your story

But I’m not like the other skinny blonde pretty girls

I’m

Different

-b.g. xox

You hold back a sigh.

“I think this is yours.” you say, handing it to her.

“Oh, it’s just some of my poetry I left lying around, that’s so embarrassing.”

I know, you think, you do that all the time.

“Did you read it?” She asks, hopefully.

“Nope.”

“Thank god, that would have been so embarrassing. My poetry is something really… deep, and personal to me.”

“Uh huh. Hey, I’m going to be doing a lot of self care this weekend, so-”

“Oh!” she interjects, eerily similar to Phoebe Buffay - you guess she’s been watching friends again - “I wanted to ask… is Leo coming over later?” Her voice is riddled with subtext, the expression on her face a little too invested in your answer.

“Uh, yeah. I told you the other day we’re spending the weekend together…”

She cuts you off again, a sudden, intense look on her face.

“When will he be here?”

You check your phone, scrolling through your recent texts.

“By 7 at the latest.” It’s around 6:40 now.

“Oh my god, I have to change,” she rushes back to her room, presumably digging through her recent additions to her closet.

You’re frozen for a minute after the interaction, left with a furrowed brow and the beginnings of a headache. You blink, then choose to reschedule processing why she feels the need to change for your boyfriend to a more convenient time. That’s enough of that for today. You don’t care what else happens, you’re not talking to anyone besides Leo for at least the rest of the day. You retreat to your room to finally shower and change into something comfy. As you pass by Isabella’s room, you hear her talking to Regan.

“...There’s something almost… supernatural about him.”

You bite back a laugh.

“Do you think he’s a…” Regan begins, ending the sentence with something too quiet to hear, but you’d bet almost any organ she said vampire.

So close. So, so close, and yet… here you are.

Not much later, Leo texts you to let you know he’s here. You read his text, and run out to hug him in the living room before even typing a reply. He picks you up, and spins you around. The embrace is warm and fulfilling and familiar, and you wish it would last forever.

“Hi, Sparky.” you murmur into his neck.

“Estrella…” he says, rocking you back and forth gently and pressing a kiss into your jawline, “I missed you so much.” He punctuates the sentence with another kiss, this one to your lips, and you smile more genuinely than you have all day. You’re about to agree when you remember the good news you’ve been saving to tell him in person.

“Guess what I got on sale for like, half off,” you start, excitedly, continuing at his invested expression, “the Assassin’s Creed bundle I showed you!”

“No way,” he starts, and you nod.

“I’ll go get everything set up, drinks are in the kitchen!” He watches you retreat into your room, disbelieving how he could possibly get someone as perfect as you to fall for him. He’s not going to question his luck. He grabs a couple caffeinated sparkling ices, and meets you in your room, setting down his bag and grabbing some comfy clothes to change into.

As you both get settled in, you fill each other in on all the ridiculous shit you’ve been through this week. You finally conclude the bizarre - yet somehow standard - Isabella escapades.

“So I will be avoiding all contact as much as possible,” you laugh.

“Yeah, no shit,” he agrees, “Consider me your human buffer.” You thank him, hugging him again and pressing a kiss to his lips.

The next couple hours are spent cuddling and finishing season 4 of Castlevania. Both reeling from the season finale, you agree this is a good place to take a break, get some food, and decide what game you should start with. It’s already 10pm, which most people would consider too late for dinner, but you have all weekend to fuck up your sleep schedules.

“Let’s review,” Isabella says, holding up two red lipsticks. She turns to Regan. “Which one?”

“That one,” Regan says, pointing to the one on the left, then turns to her list, and continues. “Here’s what we know; we’ve never seen him eat, and he never seems tired. He’s really smart-”

“Almost too smart,” Isabella adds, selecting black rose dangle earrings from her jewelry. Regan agrees, and continues.

“He’s almost hypnotically attractive, and his smile is a little too dazzling.”

“There’s something… supernatural about him. Like he’s not… all human.”

Regan writes this down.

“Plus he’s always wearing black and red, and those flowy button up shirts? It’s all adding up, Ree. That dream that someone was outside my window, the ring, everything…” She says, referencing the black and red cocktail ring she’d found with her stuff when she’d first moved, “I’m not saying it’s definite, just that… there’s a chance.”

“What about…” Regan says hesitantly, nodding toward your room.

“Please,” she scoffs, “he’s only with them to get close to me, like Damon and Caroline. Edward couldn’t have just approached Bella out of the blue, he had to infiltrate her friend group first, to seem less suspicious. Not to sound mean or anything, but they really don’t seem like the type someone… like him… would choose.” her voice gets dreamy when she mentions him.

In spite of having seen most mainstream vampire media almost as many times as Isabella, Regan still considers her the expert on these things, and decides not to point out that Edward didn’t infiltrate Bella’s friend group. Maybe it comes up in one of the retellings she hasn’t read yet.

“So, what now?”

Isabella sets down her lipstick, and turns to her friend.

“I tell him.”

Regan’s eyes widen.

“You’re going to tell him you know?”

“No… not yet. It’s too soon, we don’t have enough evidence. I’m going to tell him I know he’s in love with me, then once he’s secure in our relationship... we’ll see where it goes.”

She stands up, assessing herself in the mirror. She chose her outfit carefully; short red dress with black roses and black mesh collar, black rose bracelet to match her earrings, snug faux leather jacket, and black stiletto ankle booties with a very skinny heel, the zipper on the outside gold, not silver. She fluffs her wavy hair and turns towards the door. She looks back one more time, holding onto the doorway.

“Wish me luck.”

Leo enters the kitchen, seeing Isabella already there, leaning against the counter seductively. She’s wearing an outfit and jewelry this late at night that makes Leo wonder if she’s going to an emo tea party. He puts the takeout in the microwave. She’s still staring at him.

“Uh… hey.”

She lets out a dainty giggle, looking him up and down.

“... Hi.”

At a loss for words, and really wanting the awkward silence to be over, he continues, “Did you need something?”

“What I need,” she walks closer to him, tracing her finger over his collar, “is you.”

What the fuck?

His brain seems to stall for a moment, and she uses this opportunity to continue.

“I know why you’re here. I know that you’re only using them to get closer to me. I know-”

“Woah-”

“That you’re in love with me.”

Okay, double what the fuck.

She takes his stunned silence as shyness, and steps closer, putting her arms around his shoulders.

“You don’t need to play so coy, I-”

This time she’s the one that gets cut off. He grabs her arms and gently steps away, trying to make it abundantly clear that he’s not into this.

“Woah, okay, slow down. First of all, you’re 17 and I’m turning 20 in a couple months, so that’s a hard no. Second, I don’t know where you got this idea, but I am not dating them to get closer to you. We’ve known each other since we were like, 15, and have been through everything together. I’ve only known you for a couple months. I love them. Probably more than I’ve loved anything ever. I thought that was pretty obvious.”

He doesn’t want to be mean, he really doesn’t, but he can tell from the look on her face that she still thinks this is all part of some game.

“So why don’t I ever see you eat? Why are you so smart, and always up at night? I know what you are.”

He has to physically hold back a laugh. He takes a step back, and places his hands on the counter.

“Isabella, I have adhd. And I’m literally an engineering student. Why wouldn’t I be smart and have a shitty sleep schedule?”

She starts to protest, and he pulls out the reheated take out from the microwave.

“And for the record, I do eat.”

Exiting the kitchen quickly and retreating back to your room, he hands you your food.

“I got the game set up!” you say excitedly.

“Nice!”

You take one look at his face and can tell something happened. He sees this, and continues.

“I just had a very… interesting interaction with Isabella,” before he finishes the sentence, your head is already in your hands. You let out a groan.

“What did she do?” you mutter from behind your hands.

He pulls you into his lap, rubbing your back.

“I’m not totally sure,” you laugh, “but I think she thinks I’m secretly in love with her…” you’re both laughing before he can even finish the sentence.

“No…” you laugh, “no fucking way…”

“Believe me, I put an end to that as soon as it started.”

“Oh, I do.”

He runs his hand over your back, and you’re quiet for a moment.

“You know,” he continues, “I think getting our own place has definitely moved up the priority list.”

You couldn’t agree more.

#leo valdez x reader #leo x reader #leo valdez #leo valdez imagine #heroes of olympus #heroes of olympus x reader

[get-shiggy-with-it]

Ch. 2

Shigaraki Birthday Celebration! 18+ MINORS DNI

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x fem!reader 

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: reader is marked fem cause Tomura is a little sexist and hates you cause you’re a woman, no pronouns, incel!shiggy, collage au/no quirks, tomura is an asshole, gratuitous swearing, like so much, shiggy has a dirty mouth, mentions of shigs being anxious, brief male masturbation, tags will be added for smut in the next two parts

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6

Summary: In which studying is done, unwilling connections are made, and Tomura thinks about the way you smell a totally normal amount. 

AO3 mirror

Taglist: @dillybuggg​ (just shoot me an ask if you want to be tagged!

Tomura hadn’t stopped staring at his phone since he left the apartment. It was second nature by now—head down at a nearly ninety degree angle, hoodie pulled up to hide hair he hadn’t bothered to comb in weeks, and phone out, held just far enough away that he could see the pavement behind the screen. 

He’d found that people tended to naturally avoid him this way and he didn’t have to risk accidentally making eye contact. It was still a bit nerve wracking to venture into buildings he didn’t expressly have to for classes, so he was still hesitant to make the voyage from his apartment to the library.  But he’d made the mistake of mentioning plans to his roommate and the bastard wouldn’t leave him alone about it afterwards until he was practically shoved out with the door locked behind him. 

He was half tempted to make up some excuse last minute and go hide out at the only cafe on campus he could tolerate, but Tomura knew he was just delaying the inevitable. Biting the bullet now would help to not prolong his suffering. 

Your text thread glared up at him in stark white on blue as he pushed past a crowd of students by the library entrance and flashed his ID to the attendant. 

Group Project Bitch:

— hey I got us a room on the third floor, all the way in the back

—text me when you’re here I’ll wave you in, it’s kinda hard to find T-T

                                                                                                     sounds good— 

He shot off a quick text to you that he was hoping on the elevator. The other two guys in the lift may have given him a dirty look for only going up to the third floor, but Tomura sure as hell wasn’t going to risk the physical exertion of stares when just the thought being stuck in a small room alone with you for god knows how long already had him sweating. 

When he stepped out, you were leaned against one of the 90s-green shelves, scrolling aimlessly through your phone. He panicked momentarily, thinking he’d have to get your attention cause just walking up without saying anything would be weird right? 

He wasn’t sure. 

He didn’t do shit like this. 

Thankfully, you looked up at the chime of the lift and waved him over. His red sneakers squeaked as they scuffed the linoleum floors and he already regretted choosing his tighter fitting pair of sweats. The tapered legs that hugged his ankles and thin calves rubbed against his skin and stung the raw patches. 

“Hey, thanks for coming,” you said softly and he nodded, following as you began to weave through the stacks. “Sorry it was short notice, graduation’s coming up so I'm swamped with meetings.”

“It’s fine, I didn’t have anything going on.” 

He cringed internally at the way his voice cracked, trying to keep the usual rasp to a minimum. His roommate said it was from the innumerable hours he spent shouting at his monitor or on discord, which was probably true but to you he was sure he just sounded like a fucking teenager. 

“Cool, I’ve been set up for awhile so feel free to move some stuff,” you talked a bit louder now that you’d both stepped into the study room and shut the door. 

Tomura looked around. You’d snagged one of the nicer ones at least, with the big monitors he could cast his screen onto and those comfy chairs he liked but could never beat anyone too on the lower floors. 

You were right, there was shit all over the big table at the center of the room. Notes and printed out readings with highlights galore and sticky notes littering the pages were scattered all over. What a show off. You probably tossed all this stuff out so he’d think you were actually intelligent or some shit. 

Kicking a pile off of the nearest plush armchair, Tomura took a seat and pulled his laptop out. There was a jack in the middle of the table and you plugged yours in to cast onto the big monitor. 

You made a fucking power point for him. 

This couldn’t be real. 

“So I know I ran some stuff by you in class but essentially I was thinking we make like a simple Twine type thing using the rhetorical argument Swift is making…” 

You started rambling again and Tomura almost immediately tuned you out. His eyes drifted between the rough outline you were flicking through on the board and the laptop you had your nose buried in. 

It was covered in stickers, pretty obviously stereotypical for someone as obsessed with being ‘cool’ as you clearly were. But as he scanned through the various old meme phrases and aesthetic shit, he caught a couple of game references he recognized and a panel cutout from one of his favorite manga. 

He almost fell into your trap for a moment, feeling a rush at the prospect of someone—much less a chick—being into his main hyperfixations. 

But it was quickly crushed under everything his years trolling subreddits had taught him. People like you didn’t actually have interests beyond the attention and dick it got them. Plus that manga was pretty popular anyway, you probably didn’t even read it, just thought the line was funny or made you sound quirky. That had to be why you felt the need to drop it in your first texts. 

“What do you think?” you asked, making good on your new habit of startling the hell out of him. 

Tomura blinked, gaze instinctively turning to you but the blatant way you stared made his mouth turn to sand paper, so he looked resolutely back at the color-coded bullet points on the screen. 

“Look’s fine,” he mumbled. 

The more he glanced over it, the more it actually did look fine. A bit more than fine, really, which pissed him off even more. The little choose-your-own debate style story was not a terrible way to make fucking Whatever Swift interesting and it kinda looked like you’d bothered to google some simple coding which gave him a better idea of what you were looking for. 

It was...good. 

And that so fucking annoying. 

Well, he wasn’t sure if annoying was the right word for it, but the proposal coupled with your apparent lack of disgust at working with him made his face hot and that only ever happened otherwise when his roommate left the dishes out for weeks or when some newb on his server fucked up their raids. 

Then, you had the audacity to plop down in the chair next to him and— 

“You can tell me to fuck off if you want,” you began, shuffling in the chair to cross your legs on the cushion, “but I was hoping you’d be willing to show me how you do some of the coding stuff? I tried on my own, but I have literally no clue what I’m doing.” 

He could smell you again, like the whole fucking health and beauty aisle at the grocery store. When he turned his head a bit to look at you around the curtain of his hair, you were crooked—back against the armrest and facing him. 

“Why do you want to know?” he asked, sounding a bit less rude than he would have liked to. 

You just fucking stared right at him though, didn’t wrinkle your nose at how greasy his roots were or how he was wearing the same hoodies as yesterday. 

“I’ve always been interested in it, but my program is kinda stressful and I don’t have much free time so I never learned,” you offered and for once Tomura found he didn’t feel his skin crawl under your unwavering gaze. 

The dry, cracked area around his eyes burned though as sweat beaded on his forehead and he quickly wiped at his face with a loose sweatshirt sleeve. The garment hung off his shoulders, bought a size too big that he never ended up growing into. 

“What’s your major?” 

He found the words slipped easily from him. It was the quintessential question you asked of anyone in college when you met, but he’d never been interested in the answer before. 

You babbled a bit about your specific area of study and your voice was surprisingly not as infuriating as he remembered it being before. It was softer, he thought, than when you were soapboxing in class about the sexist implications of old as fuck poetry—it had a less grating quality and was almost pleasing to the ear. 

Or Tomura would have said that if he thought you deserved the compliment. 

But, obviously you didn’t. 

So he didn’t. 

He just pretended to care about what you were saying and didn’t hang onto every word at all. Actually he was more enraptured in the way your lips moved when you talked. You used your hands a lot too, but his eyes were ensnared on the way your mouth quirked and dipped, at the occasional flash of your tongue between strong teeth. When he leaned in a bit, he could smell your breath too: fruity gum and the remnants of whatever you were always drinking in that loud as fuck cup. He wondered now what exactly it was, so he could buy it and get a better idea of what you mouth might taste—

Nope. 

No, see this was exactly what he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about. How were you doing this to him? What a fucking slut. 

Tomura steeled his nerves as you started explaining the extracurriculars you did on the side. 

“My roommate freshman year actually started a gaming club and so I’ve gotten more into that over the years,” you explained, pointing at the stickers on your laptop case. 

“Are you talking about The League?” 

“Yeah, I didn’t know if you’d heard of it,” you shrugged.  

He knew of the gaming club on campus. He’d thought about joining when he enrolled but the allure of anonymity online gaming provided was too strong. Plus his discord server didn’t have annoying weekly meetings. 

The thought of you, up late and illuminated by the blue light of a tv screen, tucked away in one of the basement rooms in the media building was...strange. It also prompted an array of new images—you in those fucking cat ear headsets, seated in his lap as he trashed you in Mario Kart which was even stranger. 

Tomura had to physically shake his head to dislodge the thought. 

“Uh, we should probably work on this right?” he cringed at the way his voice cracked compared to your own, smooth tone. 

You should narrate those fucking sleepy time mediation things. His roommate used to hide wireless speakers in his room and blast those when Tomura stayed up too late. It was annoying as shit then, but if it was you talking, he probably wouldn’t have minded so much. 

Or no, no he would definitely mind. 

Yes. It would have been worse if anything. 

“Oh shit, you right. It’s been like two hours.” 

He glanced down at his laptop and saw that it had, indeed, been two hours since he got there. He’d willingly spoken to you for two goddamn hours. It felt like no time had passed at all, but the sun was definitely setting, the overhead fluorescent bulbs taking over as the main light source in the room. 

Weird. 

So you settled back in your chair, typing away like you always did, but the sound wasn’t nearly as frustrating as before. Occasionally, you’d glance over his shoulder and ask questions about what he was working on, but mostly the two of you settled into a comfortable silence. 

This pattern continued for the next few weeks. As the weather warmed, you began to show a bit more skin. He never worked up the nerve to comment on the thick expanse of bare thigh that tapered off nicely into your calf, or the curve of your arms not hidden behind knit sweaters—hell even your fucking shoulders were hard not to look at. 

Maybe all those high school dress codes weren’t actually so full of shit after all. Cause he was definitely distracted by the way your neck swooped into the exposed skin of your shoulder and down your back on more than one occasion.

Did all girls know that? Was it some kind of massive conspiracy to crumble the patriarchy or some crap to go flashing bare shoulders everywhere? 

Regardless if you really were trying to hypnotize him into liking you, Tomura stayed resolutely in his monochrome, long sleeved attire, and if you noticed the behavior you never said a word. 

Never said a word about his allergy ridden skin, peeling lips or scarred throat. Never commented on his terrible posture or said his eyes were creepy. Even when he’d occasionally toss a negative remark your way, you never retaliated maliciously. Just brushed him off with a jovial ‘don’t be a dick’ and a playful, but hard slap to his chest or the back of his head. 

The two of you always met in the same, secluded room on the third floor. You’d talk with him in class sometimes or shoot him texts about random bits of inspiration or a late night game memes, but for the most part, your conversations were confined to that room. He found he preferred the study room ‘you’ best. You weren’t as stiff. There was more of a solidity to you, like he’d seen when you told off that Kai bastard. 

It...grew on him. 

He was irrationally anxious that there would be a time when you couldn’t secure this particular room—with it’s big monitor and comfy chairs and less annoying ‘you’—but he’d been reassured after your third work session. 

Someone had knocked softly at the thick, wooden door and a head of wild, bright pink hair peaked around the crack. 

“Sup bro,” the intruder quipped, as they stepped fully into the room. 

“Hey, Spinner,” you mumbled back, looking up momentarily from the essay portion of your presentation before going back to typing. 

Spinner had seemed to notice him at that point and offered a small wave in his direction. “Oh hey, sorry, thought you were alone,” he said quickly. 

“Nah, this is Tomura,” you said, glancing up again and jerking your thumb in his direction. 

Tomura nodded and tugged at his hoodie strings to stop from scratching under the newcomer’s gaze. He’d gotten used to you, but other people still made him a bit nervous. 

“Nice to meet you,” Spinner had a nice smile, bright and flashy when he spoke. He leaned against the door and crossed his arms, looking around the room. “You got the nice one, huh. How’d you manage that?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” you half closed your laptop and stretched a bit. “Jin was working the front desk, so I’ve just been bribing him with vending machine snacks.” 

“He hasn’t gotten himself fired yet?” Spinner laughed incredulously, but not unkindly. 

“Surprisingly not, but he’s completely corrupt now,” you were picking at the cuticle of your thumb and Tomura fixated on the way the skin split off at the nail. Just like his. “A couple packs of chips and a Monster and I get the most bitchin study room whenever I want.” 

“Damn,” Spinner chuckled again and Tomura really wished that he’d leave already. He was beginning to feel himself fading into the upholstery as the conversation left him in the dust. The divergence of your attention away from him or the project was even more annoying that you were. “Well, are you coming to The League meeting tonight? We’re busting out a Smash tournament.” 

“That’s tonight?” you asked, eyes perking up but sliding subtly in Tomura’s direction. “Sorry, I think Tomura and I are gonna be working on this project for a while longer and I’m kinda burnt out. But next time, yeah?”

Spinner rolled his eyes but nodded and kicked off the wall. “That’s not very sexy of you,” he chided and waved a hand in parting. “Gonna work yourself directly into the fucking grave.” 

“Jokes on you, I welcome death.” 

You buried yourself in the screen again and Tomura actually felt a bit grateful for you ending the conversation before he got too painfully awkward. 

But Spinner stopped before he left, looking Tomura up and down from the frayed strings of his black hoodie to the tips of his worn red sneakers. 

“Nice to meet you, man,” he said with a wide grin. “Feel free to tag along next time if you want, we always need more players.” 

The door clicked softly shut behind him and Tomura relaxed back into the silence.

He did end up tagging along—though he spent most of the time hanging off your heels like a lost puppy—to the next meeting of your gaming club and the one after that. Frustratingly enough, he learned that your interests did also extend into skills as you almost bested him in a few rounds Smash. Your profile, lit only by the flashing screen lights, was even more striking outside of his imagined imitations. 

So much so that it found its way into his head late at night when he was too tired to log onto his server. So much so that it had his cock growing firm and tenting his grey sweats without even the visual aid of his go to porn clips. So much so that sometimes, he felt inclined to do something about the throbbing between his legs. So much so that he thought about the way you picked the skin by your fingers. How it looked like his. How your hand might feel like his but softer. Smoother around the edges. With your sweet voice whispering in his ear, making him whine and pant and spill white ropes of release onto his stomach. 

But it was only because you were hot. 

And you were practically begging for him to jack off to the thought of you with those outfits and liking all the shit he liked and noticing when he shrunk away from conversations or including him in them when he started to feel that awful sense of fading into the background. 

Yeah. 

Everybody jerks it sometimes to their group project partners if their ass is nice enough. 

Right?

#tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura x reader #shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki imagines #bnha fanfiction #college au #bee.writes

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

He Was a Sk8r Boi

Happiest of Birthdays and best wishes to one of my most beloved and darling friends on this earth, the fantastical @hailhailsatan ! May your sass never cease.

modern au - college student Jaskier - the Kaer Morons are all skater punks

tw: mild injury (scraped arm)

---

Jaskier took a seat on what remained of a crumbling stone bench and pulled his black-and-white composition notebook onto his lap, opening it to the closest blank page. He tugged his favorite pen out from its place of honor behind his ear and waited for inspiration to strike.

And waited.

And waited.

After half an hour of staring into space and getting absolutely nothing written, the frustrated college student stood from his seat and jammed his headphones into his ears. If nature wasn’t going to help finish this stupid poetry assignment then maybe he could find a person or two to observe for inspiration instead. Glancing around the otherwise empty benches and pathways of the public park, Jaskier sighed and shook his head. “Fuck this, I’ll try the other side.”

He pulled his MP3 player out from the pocket of his light autumn jacket and painstakingly scrolled through every song available until finally giving up and pressing the “Shuffle” button. As a heavy, angry guitar riff began to filter through his headphones and lighten the load of the world from his shoulders, Jaskier found himself approaching a half-hearted attempt at a skatepark.

There was one cement half-pipe to his left and a few rails and quarter-pipes scattered around the vicinity, bolted into the ground in a seemingly random pattern. Several oddly shaped cement bowls were sunk into the earth, obviously made to work like ramps but with a larger and less predictable surface area.

There were only three skaters enjoying the park on this particularly grey afternoon, zipping back and forth from one piece of equipment to the next like emo hummingbirds. Jaskier took out his headphones again as he made his way to a nearby bench - wood this time - and casually sat himself down. The skater dudes were yelling back and forth to each other as they swanned over and around the equipment on their boards, mostly insults from what the student could hear.

The loudest of the three had springy orange hair that he wore pulled back into a small, messy half-bun at the top of his head. The rest fell down against the back of his neck in an equally messy sheet, reaching nearly all the way to his shoulders but not quite touching them. He was wearing a bright red t-shirt with a catchphrase that Jaskier couldn’t read and plain denim jeans.

“What the fuck are you doing, Eskel?” he laughed, pointing to the tallest of the group and pulling a face.

“Shut up, Bert,” the brunette shouted back at the redhead, doing a quick kick-flip over the far end of a metal railing. “You can’t skate for shit.”

“I’m better than you!”

The third member of their little gang was the quietest so far and, in Jaskier’s personal opinion, also the prettiest. He had a mass of long white hair that fell all the way to the bottom of his shoulder blades, pointed and stiff in a way that meant it had been straightened and sprayed into submission. The silvery strands were being held out of the stranger’s eyes by a baggy black beanie and Jaskier desperately wanted to know whether or not that hair color was natural (though he heavily suspected that it was not).

The white-haired guy was also the most talented of the three gathered skaters, flying from one end of the half-pipe to the other and landing a few flips in between as if risking his life was as simple as breathing. He wore no knee pads over his ripped black skinny jeans and no elbow pads either; Jaskier noted with a little zing through his nervous system that the skater’s arms were muscled like a Greek statue’s and equally pale.

He was fucking hot.

“Geralt, do a three-sixty!” the redhead jeered, chucking something at the pretty one.

“I can’t land one yet and you know it,” the white-haired guy, Geralt apparently, replied. His voice was low and sonorous and Jaskier nearly fell off his bench in surprise. The student hadn’t realized how far forward he had been leaning in order to listen to their conversation and he scooted back again with a self-conscious little blush. In the distance, Geralt continued. “Why don’t you get up here and try it yourself, asshole?”

“I just fucking might, White Wolf,” Lambert huffed, turning his board back toward the half-pipe and picking up speed. The dark-haired one, Eskel, caught Jaskier’s eye from across the park; the student blushed an even darker shade of red and looked down at his lap to avoid any sort of confrontation. If any of these guys wanted to start a fight with him, Jaskier would surely lose.

By the time the anxious student worked up the nerve to look at them again, Lambert had already climbed to the top of the half-pipe and taken a defensive stance. His eyebrows were furrowed and his arms were crossed over his chest in a projection of almost childish anger. As Geralt came up the cement incline, Lambert lashed out with his foot and kicked the other man’s board out from beneath his feet.

Eskel gave a wordless cry of alarm.

Geralt wavered in the air for a moment - cartoonishly, Jaskier thought, almost like Wile E. Coyote - before plunging to the pavement and rolling limply down the inside of the half-pipe. Eskel chucked a rock at the redhead and started screaming, “Fuck off, dude! You could have cracked his fucking skull! You could have killed Geralt, you absolute cock-toboggan!”

“Fuck! Shit, I didn't-,” Lambert fell on his butt and slid down the ramp to Geralt’s side, kneeling over him with concern written all over his face. “Are you alright, man!?”

Jaskier couldn’t hear if Geralt replied or not, but he suddenly remembered the first-aid kit sitting right there in his bag. Jaskier was a total klutz and tried to keep a handful of bandages and a tube of disinfectant on him at all times just in case he ever needed them. Thank goodness they would be able to come in handy, and for a far nobler purpose than patching up yet another one of his table-smacked knees.

Without thinking any further ahead, Jaskier grabbed the strap of his bag and took off running towards the site of the accident.

“Hey!” he shouted, coming to a stop a few feet away. “I have - uh, I have a first-aid kit if you want to use it.”

“Cool, thanks,” Eskel said, glancing over his shoulder with a curt nod. “Come on over, we don’t bite. Well, I don’t.”

“Dude, I’m so sorry,” Lambert apologized to Geralt once again. When Jaskier glanced over at him, the redhead looked legitimately upset and guilty. Geralt looked up at the newcomer from the pavement, his silver hair spread out around him in mimicry of a halo - the black beanie was lying a few feet away, forgotten or ignored.

Up close like this, the stranger stole the breath out of Jaskier’s very lungs. The man's eyes… His fucking eyes were a gorgeous molten gold in the late afternoon sun, sparking and shining like gemstones. Holding Geralt’s gaze made Jaskier feel as if his very soul was catching fire.

“Do you need a band-aid?” Jaskier asked rather stupidly, holding out the little cardboard box. Geralt nodded stoically.

“I think I scraped my arm.”

“Let me help,” Jaskier said. The student knelt beside Geralt and set the box of band-aids down. He flung open the kit and retrieved some ‘pain-free’ disinfectant, then returned to the box of bandages in search of one without a Disney princess on it. “Do you guys always do this without wearing any protective gear?”

“I’ve got a helmet,” Geralt said. He pointed towards three mismatched backpacks piled near the edge of the pavement; a bright red helmet with several semi-familiar logos stuck to it sat atop one of them.

“It’s very useful over there, keeping your backpack from cracking its skull open,” Jaskier chastised lightly, trying to keep his nerves in check. He was feeling oddly protective of a guy he’d never even met before and it was very fucking weird.

“Sorry,” Geralt shrugged. He was still laying on his back, his topaz eyes flickering between Jaskier’s hands and face. The student applied a thin layer of medical cream to the shallow scrape with shaking fingers and then wiped the remaining goo on his shirt, uncaring of the damage it may have done. He bandaged the minor wound quickly and leaned back, glancing between Lambert and Eskel as if just noticing their presence on either side of Geralt's head.

“Thanks,” Eskel grinned, holding out his hand. “I’m Eskel.”

“Jaskier,” Jaskier replied shyly. “And the loud one is Lambert, right?”

Geralt chuckled from his place on the ground and Jaskier’s heart seized painfully in his chest. What a laugh, ye gods. “Yeah, that’s Lambert. I’m Geralt.”

“Nice to meet you, Geralt,” Jaskier could practically taste the name as it melted across his tongue. “Well, not the nicest way to meet you, but I’m glad I met you all the same. Anyway.”

He stood up with a little grimace and took a step back.

“Where are you going?” Eskel asked. “You came to Geralt’s rescue so I think that means he owes you like, at least an ice cream, or something.”

“Yeah,” Lambert piped up. He smirked at the man on the ground and then turned back to Jaskier, mischief clear in his expression, “Let him take you to get an ice cream.”

“I’m lactose intolerant,” Jaskier squeaked. Then he realized he’d sounded rude and held up his hands as if offering surrender (surrender for what, he wasn't exactly sure), “Not that I wouldn’t like to hang out with you more but I’ve got an assignment due and I’m sure you’re very busy doing skater things and I-”

“Am I not good enough for you?” Geralt asked, finally sitting up. He straightened his arms out behind him and rested there, reclined comfortable, a god in his temple.

Jaskier shot the older man a half-annoyed look, beating back his anxiety with a stick. “I listen to Avril Lavigne. I know not to underestimate pretty skater punks.”

“Pretty?” Geralt raised his eyebrows. Jaskier hid his face behind his hands and turned on his heel.

“Anyway, nice meeting you!” Jaskier shouted, hoping they could hear even if he was facing the opposite direction. He took off toward the edge of the park at a brisk walk, verging on a jog. He needed to go hide behind a tree and cry. What the fuck!? He was terrible at flirting and now he’d gone and ruined his chances with the guy he’d… literally just met. Chill out, he told himself - just before a strong hand clamped down over his shoulder and stopped him in his tracks.

“So not ice cream,” Geralt said. Jaskier slowly turned back to face the mostly-stranger. His lip was caught fast between his teeth and Geralt lifted one large hand to gently thumb it free again. “Maybe a boarding lesson, instead? It would give me an excuse to put my hands around your waist and you could put yours on my shoulders.”

“Are you asking me on a date?” Jaskier asked. He fluttered his eyelashes and took half a step into Geralt's space.

The broad-shouldered punk smiled down at the Little Mermaid band-aid on his arm and then turned that smile to Jaskier. “Yeah.”

#he was a sk8r boi #anyway happy birthday hailie #geraskier #geraskier ficlet #geraskier fluff #bouncey's endless getting together fics #modern au #skater punk geralt #skateboarder geralt #student jaskier #JUST KISS

[h0tch-r0cket]

Infatuation (18+) {a.h.} : chapter 5

summary: you needed a job. aaron hotchner needed a babysitter. the rest was inevitable.

word count: 5.5K

warnings: explicit language, drinking alcohol, smoking, building tension : )

table of contents

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

"Y/N?" Jack called out from the kitchen of the Hotchner home. You had picked him up from school, like always, and he was working on his homework as soon as possible.

"What's going on, Jack?" you asked as you placed your finger in between the pages of your copy of The Centaur which you brought with you to keep you occupied.

"I need help with my math," he said softly.

You put your bookmark in the novel and headed into where the little Hotchner was awaiting your help. You sat down across from him and glanced down at the papers that were sprawled out in front of him. "What do you need help with?"

"Well, Ms. Kingston showed us today how to add and subtract with three digit numbers like 100 and all that stuff. I get confused when you have to borrow from one of the other numbers when you subtract," he said as he tapped the pencil on the table, a habit you noticed Aaron did as well when he was working on his own work.

"Alright, let me take a look here," you said as you grabbed the paper from him.

After a few minutes of explaining the way you go about subtracting the numbers to Jack, he got it pretty quickly. "Thanks, Y/N!"

You ruffled his hair as you stood up from the table. "You got it. If you need me, I'm just going to be in the living room, okay?"

"Okay," he said as he moved on to the next parts of his worksheet.

You settled back onto the couch, bringing your knees up to your chest as you read the novel. You were just reaching one of your favorite parts, your attention glued to the pages in front of you. It was the part where George, the father of the story, had spent his very last dollar to bring home a sandwich for his wife even though he and his son were stranded for the night because their car broke down. There was something about the sentiment, the idea that he would give up his very last dollar, that always warmed your heart.

Just as you finished up the chapter you were on, the small pitter patter of feet coming into the living room interrupted you continuing on with your reading. You looked up from the book to see Jack coming towards you, taking hard steps as he walked.

He plopped down on the couch next to you and let out a low sigh. "What's the matter, kiddo?" you asked as you placed the book neatly on your lap.

"I want dad to come home already," he said quietly as he swung his legs against the side of the couch.

"I know you do, Jack. But hey, he should be here soon. Want to watch a movie in the meantime?" You weren't sure what else to do for him. It was the first time that Jack had ever expressed that sentiment to you.

He nodded his head lightly, not saying anything to actually answer your question verbally. "Alright. As long as you finished your homework," you told him. He simply nodded yet again, his face more somber than normal.

You tried to figure out why he had the sudden mood change from when you picked him up from the bus. You thought maybe he was just tired or perhaps he wasn't feeling good. You knew that most kids always wanted their parents around when they were sick.

As the different possibilities ran through your head as you looked for a movie that the two of you had yet to watch, Jack's small voice piped up from next to you. "Y/N?"

You turned your head to look at him to already be met with his gaze. "Yeah Jack?"

"Can I sit with you?" he asked softly.

You nodded your head and straightened yourself up more on the couch so he could sit on your lap. As he quickly scooted into your lap, your copy of The Centaur fell underneath the couch.

"Sorry Y/N. I'll pick it up," Jack said as he went to reach down and grab it. You pulled him back up towards you and let his back rest against your frontside.

"It's alright. I'll get it later. Pick out a movie to watch," you told him. You passed him the TV remote and let him scroll through the different family movies, hoping that he would find something to occupy his thoughts until Aaron got home from his lectures.

------

As much as he tried, Aaron Hotchner could not focus on the lecture that he was giving in his class. As he sat at his office desk at the university, he flipped through his notes which to anyone else other than him would not have made any sense at all with the way that the thoughts were not cohesive and the exhaustive amounts of abbreviations that littered the pages.

He planned the day's lecture to be about Orpheus and Eurydice, lovers tragically torn apart, but he couldn't gather his thoughts cohesively to provide his students with what he deemed to be the proper lesson.

His thoughts were foggy. Jarbled. He thought he would have shaken the thought of the way your hands touched the day prior. But it was all he found himself thinking about. He wasn't quite sure why. It was a simple accident.

A simple accident that made him want to rethink the way he had been so closed off with you. The way he was always curt. He craved more, despite the fact that he knew he shouldn't pursue anything with you.

He rubbed his temples, sighing in defeat. At that point, the lecture was going to be what it was going to be.

Aaron gathered all of his things in his satchel and headed down to the auditorium before his students filed in. He shed himself of his suit jacket, leaving him in a baby blue dress shirt and tan slacks. He organized his notes yet again and placed them in order on the podium that was in the center of the room.

His students filed in soon after, a chorus of Good afternoon, Professor Hotchner, How are you Professor Hotchner? coming from them.

Aaron gave everyone a few minutes to settle in before glancing at his watch for the time. He clapped his hands together once loudly to get the attention of the class. The side conversations slowly died down, only a few soft murmurs being heard through the crowd.

"Alright folks. Let's settle in. I know today is Friday and you all are eager to get out of here so I'll try to make this as quick and easy as possible," he said, projecting his voice so that everyone could hear him. "I'll run through attendance quickly and then we'll get started."

After taking attendance and marking the absentee students, Aaron grabbed the textbook for the class from out of his satchel. "If you all could open to page 265 that would be absolutely fantastic." Synchronous opening of textbooks and flipping of pages filled the auditorium as the students quickly followed Aaron's instructions.

He began to walk in front of the room, arms crossed over his chest as he glanced out into the sea of students. "Now, does anyone have any ideas as to what the story of Orpheus and Eurydice is about?" He looked into the crowd, being met with blank stares, eyes glazing over, and even a few students nodding their heads back as they fought the calling of sleep during class.

Not one student raised their hand. He caught the students glancing at one another, hoping that someone, anyone, would have the answer. But there was no such luck.

Part of him wondered if you knew the story. You probably would know the tale like the back of your hand, being that you seemed to be meticulous with whatever it was that you set your mind to. He was curious to see just how much you knew about mythology.

He decided that the next time he saw you, he would try to find out just that.

Focus, he thought to himself.

Clearing his head of you as much as possible, he rolled his sleeves up and walked to the whiteboard, uncapping the black Expo marker that laid next to it. "Orpheus," he said as the marker squeaked on the board as he wrote the name down, "is the son of Apollo and Calliope. Well, that is according to some accounts. Some people say that Orpheus had a different father," he clarified. Aaron turned his attention back to his students, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. "Can anyone at least remind me as to who those two figures are in mythology? Apollo and Calliope?"

A hand rose in the middle of the auditorium slowly. "Yes?" he said, letting the student know that they could answer the question.

"Well, Apollo is considered to be the god of poetry and music. Calliope on the other hand, was one of the nine muses. She was the muse of history," the girl answered.

Aaron shook his head, placing his hands on his hips and he continued to pace back and forth in the front of the room. "Close. Calliope is actually the muse of poetry. Clio was the muse of history," he explained. "But I'm sure you knew that, right Ms. Sinclair?" he said with a small smirk on his face.

The girl nodded and scribbled down some more notes in her notebook, frantic to capture each and every word that Aaron uttered throughout the rest of the lecture.

Aaron took a brief pause and scanned through the crowd yet again. When he noticed one of his students clearly scrolling on his phone rather than focusing on the lecture, he debated about whether or not he should say something. But when the student started to show his phone around to those near him, he knew he would have to address the obvious distraction from the lecture.

"Mr. McMillan, if your phone is more important than listening to the rest of this lecture, which does cover a large part of your final, please be my guest and take the rest of the day for yourself," Aaron said as he raised his hand towards the door, suggesting that the boy leave the auditorium. He watched as the boy's face turned a shade of pink as he slipped the phone into his pocket. Aaron mouthed a small thank you to the student and continued with the lecture.

"As I was saying, with the help of Ms. Sinclair, Orpheus is the son of Apollo and Calliope. Eurydice," he said as he wrote the next name down on the board and drew a line connecting the two names together, "on the other hand was a beautiful Spartan princess. She married Orpheus. He played her beautiful songs on his lyre, which is just a smaller version of a harp. Orpheus was an exceptional musician. But that makes sense considering who his parents were."

He leaned back against his desk, partially sitting on top of it. He crossed his feet and rested his hands on each side of him on the desk to hold himself up. "However, tragedy struck the young couple. Eurydice was bit by a snake and died. Orpheus was heartbroken. So much so that he only played the most somber and melancholy songs on his lyre. "

Aaron paused for a moment, letting his students jot down their notes onto their paper. "But that didn't discourage Orpheus from fighting for his true love."

Aaron pushed himself off the desk and started to pace again, rubbing his thumb against his pointer finger as he walked. "He was not willing to give up so easily. So, he came up with a plan."

He walked over to the whiteboard again and wrote the word Underworld on the board. "Now, what are some things you know about the Underworld?"

"It's Hades' domain," a student called out.

Aaron drew an arrow from the word and wrote Hades underneath it. "And Hades is?"

"Zeus' brother," the same student replied.

"Very good. What else do we know about this Underworld, the realm where the souls of the departed end up in Greek mythology?" Aaron probed.

"River Styx!" another student called out enthusiastically.

"Mhm." He added another line to the diagram and turned to face the student that answered. "What about the River Styx?"

"I don't know. I just know it's there," the student laughed.

"Fair enough," Aaron said with a small smile. "We'll be covering that within the next few lessons so I won't worry about drilling it into your heads for the time being. One thing that I do want to mention is Cerberus, the three headed dog that guards the entrance of the Underworld. That will be important for the rest of the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice."

Aaron paused yet again, settling back onto the top of the desk but this time he was fully seated on it, his legs dangling off the side. "Now, Orpheus, being heartbroken at the loss of his wife, came up with a plan. He decided to travel to the Underworld to try to regain his love."

"That's crazy. Who would want to go to that place? I mean, I get it he loved the girl but is that even possible?" a student asked.

"It was a wild plan, I will give you that. But Orpheus succeeded. He traveled to the Underworld and managed to strike a deal with Hades after playing his music for him. The ruler of the Underworld was so moved that he granted Orpheus his wish to bring Eurydice back to the land of the living. Hell, the stories even say that Cerberus, the ferocious guardian of the entrance of the Underworld, was howling in despair of the pain Orpheus' music suggested."

A hand rose amongst the crowd. Aaron took his glasses off, gently biting down on the end of the arm of them. He raised his eyebrows at the student, allowing them to speak.

"There's no way that he got her back that easily. Greek mythology seems to, for the most part, at least stem from some kind of tragedy," the student said, clearly not believing that the tale would end happily ever after.

Aaron took his glasses out of his mouth and shook them in the direction of the student. "Excellent observation, Mr. Roth. That brings us to the next part of our tale. Hades gave Orpheus a stipulation; his wife would be brought back to the land of the living as long as Orpheus did not look back at her while they were still in the Underworld."

He hopped off his desk and hooked his glasses onto the collar of his shirt as he continued with the lecture. "Orpheus made the journey back to the light, but he turned around too soon, full of excitement to be reunited with his wife. She vanished before his eyes and he was heartbroken yet again."

"So the moral of the story is to be patient and have trust in the situations that you find yourself in?" a voice called out.

"Precisely," Aaron said, his voice soft. He glanced down at his watch. "I think that's enough for today. For the next class, think of a time in your life where this story applies. A time where you were impatient and lost something that you worked so desperately hard to get. Class dismissed."

The students filed out of the room quickly, allowing Aaron to follow behind them with his satchel tucked under his arm, the same fervor coursing through his veins to get home. He wanted to see Jack.

He wanted to see you.

————

"Oh! You sank my battleship!" you hollered dramatically as Jack managed to get another one of your ships clear off the board.

"Yes!" he shouted, throwing his fist up in success.

You were happy to see him going back to his normal, happy self. Whatever was bothering him earlier had managed to subside by the time you were done watching The Lion King.

The familiar car alarm chirped in the driveway, causing loyal Buster to run to the door in anticipation to see his owner.

You felt almost the same degree of excitement flowing through your body. It was the first time you were seeing Aaron since his touch was embedded into your head. You were wondering if things would be different. If he would be different.

As the front door opened, Jack ran over to his father and wrapped his arms tightly around his waist. "Hey buddy," Aaron said with a small chuckle as he patted Jack's back.

"I missed you today," Jack said quietly as he looked up at his father.

"I miss you everyday," Aaron said with a smile. His gaze turned to you and he kept the smile plastered on his face. "How's it going, Y/N?"

"Pretty good. Jack just sunk my battleship...again," you joked, feigning annoyance.

Aaron's smile grew a bit wider, the dimples on his face making another appearance.

You couldn't help but smile at him. His smile was contagious and gorgeous. You felt like it was such a rare occasion that he smiled, even though he was smiling more often around you, that you always studied the way his face looked so you would never forget it.

Aaron headed into the kitchen with his things with Jack following close behind. You followed a few moments after, ready to gather your things and head home.

When you came into the kitchen, you saw Aaron place a hand on his hip as he looked down at Jack who held his hands together tightly in a pleading motion.

"Come on, Dad! It will be fun," Jack begged. He put on a big smile for his father, trying to convince him further to whatever idea he had planned.

"Alright, Jack. I wouldn't mind that. Ask her," Aaron said as he turned his attention towards you. You felt yourself get nervous, not sure as to what it was that Jack was about to ask you.

Jack took a step forward and planted himself in front of you as he looked up at you with big, puppy dog eyes. "Y/N, do you want to stay and have dinner with us?" Jack asked excitedly.

"Oh," you said with shock. Your stomach fluttered at the thought of actually staying and spending time with Aaron, even if Jack was still there. But the rational part of your head was yelling at you to leave. You already were thinking about Aaron too much and you were sure you would be even further doomed if you were subject to his charm and wit for the night. "Maybe another time, Jack. I think Esmé was planning on making a nice fancy dinner tonight."

"Please, Y/N," Jack pleaded. "Stay with us and eat." He held his hands firmly together again in a similar fashion to how he was begging his father to go along with the idea in the first place.

You clicked your tongue and scratched the back of your neck, unsure as to what other excuse you could come up with. "I don't want to intrude on the time you and your dad have together, buddy."

Aaron crossed his arms across his chest and you saw him raise his eyebrows for a quick second behind his glasses. "Stay, Y/N. I'm a pretty good cook," Aaron said with a smirk growing on his face.

You felt your stomach twist further into knots at the thought that one, Aaron wanted you to stay and two, that he was going to be cooking some sort of meal for you.

Aaron, on the other hand, felt desperate. He wanted—no, he needed you to stay. He wanted to learn everything there was about you. He wanted to know your passions, your fears. As his eyes searched yours, he saw the battle that was going on in your head as to whether or not you should stay or go.

He was hoping you couldn't see the way he crossed his fingers together subtly, a silent prayer that you would stay.

He didn't know what was coming over him. All he knew was that at that moment, he didn't want you to leave the house. He had tried to push you out of his head all day, but seeing you here at his house and your gorgeous smile, it was taking everything in his power to keep his composure as he felt himself succumbing to his desire to want to be close to you.

You weren't sure what it was but the way Aaron was staring at you, his eyes soft, it was as if he was subtly begging you to stay.

You knew you shouldn't. You already were feeling things that you never thought you would for the man. But a part of you was curious to try to figure out if he was feeling something similar.

"Alright, fine," you said defeated, throwing your hands up in the air. "I'll stay." Jack let out an excited yell before running back into the living room.

You could have sworn you saw Aaron exhale deeply once you came to your decision, as if he was relieved that you were actually staying. "But I'm telling you now Hotchner, if you're not as good a cook as you say you are, there will be hell to pay," you teased as you pointed your finger in his direction.

And to your surprise, Aaron laughed. He genuinely laughed. It was a sound that was pure music to your ears, something that you wished you could have turned back time to get it on a recording.

"I promise. I am a good cook," he said as he turned around and began to take out some different pots and pans.

You walked next to him and leaned up against the counter. "What exactly are you planning on making?"

He turned his gaze to you, a smug look growing on his face. "Well where's the fun in that? It's a surprise," he said quietly, leaning closer in your direction.

You caught a quick whiff of his cologne, the smell of cedar quickly filling your airspace. You bit down on your bottom lip, the closeness to him becoming almost too much to handle.

His warm honey eyes darted down to your lips and back up to your own eyes. He cleared his throat and stood back up straight, starting to pull some random ingredients out of the cabinet in front of him.

You shut your eyes for a second, disappointed by how quickly he stood away from you. "I'll be in the living room with Jack," you said. He nodded silently, making his rounds in the kitchen to cook.

As you made your way into the living room, you couldn't help but think about how close he was. You could have reached your hand out and stroked his cheek. You could have been putty melting in his hands.

Aaron watched you walk out of the kitchen, knowing that you wouldn't see his eyes raking across your body. Your perfume lingered in the space where you were in the kitchen, reminding Aaron just how close his face was to yours, how he could have pulled you by your cheeks to brush his lips against yours.

He wanted you. And he wasn't sure how much longer he could hold back.

———-

"Oh my god," you sighed in content as you took a bite of the food Aaron prepared. He made fettuccine alfredo with chicken. All from scratch.

His eyes shot towards you as he heard the sound of satisfaction fall on your lips. He raised an eyebrow at you, taking a bite of the chicken that rested on his plate. "So, did I live up to your expectations?"

"Mhm," was all you could muster as you took another bite of the pasta.

You watched as Jack twirled the pasta around his fork. He popped it into his mouth and gave his dad a thumbs up. "It tastes good, Dad. I could eat the whole pot!"

"That's an awful lot of pasta," you joked as you took a small sip of the chardonnay that Aaron had poured for the two of you. He insisted it made the meal but you were wondering if it had different indications than what he led on.

"Yeah it is but I could eat it," Jack said. Aaron rolled his eyes jokingly at his son's active imagination.

A few minutes passed and you all were eating in content. This time, there was a much more comfortable silence that fell between you all, something that you could easily get used to.

"So, Y/N, what made you pick up an interest in Greek mythology?" Aaron asked, clearly ripping off the bandaid he had been gripping to all day. He had to know. He wanted to know more about you.

"I took a class in high school, actually. And from there, I've done most of my learning on my own. I don't know," you laughed softly.

God your laugh. Aaron would never get over hearing it. He took a sip of his wine and glanced at you over the rim of the glass, watching you absentmindedly twirl your fork around in the pasta.

"I just find it interesting that there's so many stories that they came up with and they all have some sort of deeper meaning to them."

Aaron nodded in agreement, finding himself entranced with your words. You were right of course. There were so many things those stories explained, like the natural world or even as something simple to not be selfish.

"That's why I like them so much. The interpretation of them all varies and you can learn so much," he added.

"I like the ones with Jason and the Astronauts," Jack interrupted. Small laughs from you and Aaron filled the space between you at Jack's mispronunciation.

"Argonauts," you and Aaron said at the same time, correcting the young Hotchner.

Jack scrunched his eyebrows in confusion. "What's the word?" he asked.

"Argonauts," Aaron repeated.

"Astronauts is cooler," Jack concluded as he took another bite of his chicken. "Can I be excused?"

Aaron glanced at his plate and pointed his fork in the direction of his son's food. "Eat another bite of chicken and you can be."

Jack scarfed down the chicken quickly and left the table.

Realization hit you rather quickly.

It was just you and Aaron. A tinge of pink fell across your face at the fact that you were alone with Aaron.

You cleared your throat and shifted in your seat, sitting up straighter. "So, how did your lecture go today?" you asked.

Aaron shrugged his shoulders and kept his gaze on his plate. "Could have gone better, I suppose."

"What did you talk about?" You took another drink of your wine and this time, it was you glancing at him over the rim of the glass.

"Orpheus and Eurydice."

"That's a good one. Heartbreaking in the end but I like the story of it all," you admitted.

Of course you knew it. Aaron figured you would. He wished you could have been in his class. You clearly knew so much about the subject matter and he was becoming impressed the more you spoke.

"It's definitely one of the sadder ones," he agreed.

You placed your fork down on your napkin, full from the delicious dinner you just ate. "I think it's one of the best representations of agape in Greek mythology that there is," you added, running your finger along the rim of your wine glass.

Aaron felt his nerves go wild.

Agape?

How the hell did you know about that?

You certainly kept him on his toes.

"And you know about agape, the Greek word for the concept of self-sacrificing love. I have to say, Y/N, I really wasn't expecting you to be so well versed in the subject," he admitted. "But figures, a smart girl like you would go above and beyond to learn about whatever you set your mind to." He took another sip of his wine and his eyes were looking at you more intently.

You definitely felt your face blush at his words. You tried to keep your composure as best as possible, but how could you when he was being so fucking charming and looking at you the way he was?

"I am just full of surprises," you teased, making your voice almost a whisper.

You watched as Aaron licked his lips and raised his eyebrows. "You most certainly are," he agreed, his words coming out with an exhale. "Question for you though."

"Hm?"

"What makes you think that the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice is full of agape?" he challenged.

You took a moment to try to cohesively get your thoughts together. Well, as best you could with the way Aaron was looking at you.

"Well for starters, the man literally went to the Underworld to try to get his wife back. It was an unheard of feat. And the fact that Orpheus was willing to do whatever it took to get her back just shows how much he couldn't live without her. How much he loved her."

Aaron nodded slowly, finishing the rest of his wine. "You make a good point there," he said after he swallowed the chardonnay.

You nodded in agreement. You couldn't believe that you were engaging in such a deep conversation with Aaron. But it felt so natural. So right.

You glanced at the clock, seeing that it was almost 9pm. "I think I better get going," you said quietly. You pushed yourself away from the table and placed your dishes in the sink.

When you turned around to go grab your things, you bumped into a solid mass.

Aaron.

He grunted lightly at the contact, a flicker of his smile dancing across his lips.

"Sorry," you said quickly as he looked down at you. You stared at him for a second, as he did to you, before pulling yourself out of your trance and stepping around him to grab your belongings.

"Not a problem," he said as he placed his and Jack's dishes in the sink. "Let me walk you out." You nodded silently and watched as he grabbed the pack of cigarettes off the counter.

He patted the bottom of the carton against his palm before taking one of the cigarettes out, resting it between his lips as he walked with you towards the door.

He opened the door for you and you turned to say your goodbyes.

As much as you truly didn't want to.

"Thank you for dinner," you said with a smile.

"Don't worry about it," he assured as he leaned against the doorframe, the cigarette bouncing between his lips with each word.

"Enjoy the rest of your weekend, Aaron."

"You too, Y/N."

You headed to your car, settling into the driver's seat quickly, your brain still reeling from the events of the night.

You glanced back towards the Hotchner home and saw Aaron still leaning against the door frame, the faint orange glow of the lit cigarette piercing through the darkness of the sky.

You pulled away from the house and headed back home, watching as the Hotchner home disappeared from your rear view mirror.

Once you got home, you opened the door and pressed your back against it, still shocked with the overwhelming feelings that were still in your stomach, your head. Everywhere.

Esmé turned her head around towards you from the couch. When she saw your shocked and speechless expression, a shit-eating grin grew rapidly on her face. "Spill...the...details...now," she demanded as you sat down next to her on the couch.

As you were retelling the way you and Aaron had a few more moments that night, your phone dinged.

"Don't be a fool! Answer it!" Esmé hollered, smacking her hand gently on your leg.

Your heart fluttered when you saw the name of the person texting you.

                                                   Aaron Hotchner

-You left your book here. I found it under the couch when I was straightening up.

                                -Oh, I totally forgot about it! Sorry! I'll grab it on Monday.

-The Centaur, huh? You really are a bit of a nerd when it comes to mythology aren't you?

                                            -Maybe. But it's also just a good book in general.

-I'll have to give it a read then.

                    -I'm going to test you on it if you do read it, just so you're aware.

-I'll be counting on it.

-Goodnight, Y/N.

                                                                                            -Goodnight, Aaron.

You sighed loudly, trying to ignore Esmé who was staring at you with wide eyes. You clutched your phone tighter in your hand and turned to look at her.

"I'm in such deep shit," you admitted as you leaned back on the couch, resting your head on the headrest.

——

authors note:

i hope you all enjoyed this chapter! i also hope the lecture part wasn't too boring. i figured it was a good change of pace.

thanks for reading! i appreciate the support <3

see you next chapter!

-jordyn

#aaronhotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #hotch #hotch x you #hotch x y/n #criminal minds fanfiction #fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction

[kyun-toast]

[MONSTA X] Changkyun - Happy Without Me

word count: 3.8k warnings: alcohol, suggestions of smoking, swearing, suggestions of sex summary: I don't think about you sometimes 'Cause I think about you all the time a/n: I’ve been listening to the All About Luv album a lot recently and Happy Without Me hit a little different the other day. I hope you don’t notice how I slacked off near the end 💜

“Yerim what are you wearing for tonight? I wanna look cute but not like ‘I’ve put effort in’ kinda cute, you know? Like I’m always this cute.”

Yerim laughed as she replied, “You’d look hot wearing a bin bag so shut up and let me know what drinks you want. It’s ‘bring your own booze’ so I was gonna run to the store for extra before we go.”

“Umm, vodka? Tequila? Maybe rum? I’m getting smashed tonight and you’re all going to carry me home, just letting you know.” Soobin winked and blew kisses at the both of you with a coy smile on her face, as some form of ‘thank you in advance’ for the troubles that you would be going through later that night. As much pain she put the both of you through, it was hard not to love her.

“Yeah, you say that as if that’s not what happens every week, you psycho.”

You smiled from the comfort of your sofa as you witnessed the two of your best friends bicker. You were never really one for parties, but you decided to let yourself go after an unfortunate night maybe five? six months ago. You thought that you could vent your frustrations into your notes app and be done with it, but your friends took pity and introduced you to another option. One where you could numb your mind with alcohol and crashing bass, and you figured that it was somewhat more enjoyable than cry-writing shitty poetry on a Friday night. Notes app therapy was now a thing of the past.

Changkyun had become such an integral part of your life that you couldn’t help yourself from unconsciously replaying memories that you had attempted to bury. A simple look at the most irrelevant objects would have him running through your mind before you could even stop yourself. Oh, we bought this mug together. You were surprised he hadn’t taken it with him when he left. It was his favourite mug to drink whiskey out of. Speaking of whiskey, you needed a drink. It had only taken days for him to make himself at home at the forefront of your thoughts but how long was it going to take to rid of him?

As much as you tried to keep those thoughts at bay, no amount of alcohol could ever stop them from crashing back over you whenever you saw that little smiley face appear at the top of your Instagram feed.

imnameim. When had he posted a story? You hadn’t seen the pink circle earlier. Would it be too early to look at it now? You couldn’t risk tapping on it only to see that it had been posted 12 seconds ago, just like you had done the other day. And the day before. And the day before that. Should you just make a burner account? No, that’s too far, we’re not going there today, bitch... Maybe tomorrow.

You hated how much power that tattoo face held over you, looking straight into your eyes - almost mockingly. Oh, did I look like a smiley face to you six months ago? Well, I’m a sad face now and that’s all you’re ever going to see.

“Y/N! Hey! You’re going to stare a hole into your phone.” Soobin clapped in your face, trying to get your attention. You looked up, softening your expression to meet Yerim’s eyes.

“Soobin was asking what you’re going to wear tonight.” Yerim said.

“I don’t know, probably that top I got yesterday?” you shrugged, unbothered by your friends’ question. You weren’t going to parties to impress anyone; you were going to drink the last of your braincells away.

“Y/N, ‘that top’ you got yesterday is a free t-shirt you got from the Domino’s pop-up stall on campus. I’m not letting you do this again.” Yerim dead panned.

“OK and...?” You met both of their concerned faces only to have them grab each of your arms.

“Come on. Up. That’s it.” You made unintelligible noises as they dragged you up off the sofa and into your closet. The thoughts about Changkyun’s story were left on the sofa as your mind was now filling with an excited buzz. “You act like you hate this, but I know you love getting trashed with us, Y/N.” Yerim laughed and you knew it too.

-

Changkyun lay in Jae-in’s bed, with her nestled in his chest as he looked up at the ceiling and sighed. Being careful not to wake her, he slowly squeezed his arm out from under her head to lay on his stomach to scroll through Instagram.

He had posted a story over an hour ago, half hoping that you’d see it – a cover of Dean’s Instagram. How ironic.

He shook his head at how pathetic his efforts seemed, whispering to himself, “What the hell are you doing?” He refreshed his feed for the last time to see that you had posted a video of the three of you dancing to a song in your walk-in closet. Probably drunk. Upon re-watching the video on loop for the third time, he concluded that you were most definitely drunk.

Seeing you having fun like this had him torn between being happy for you, moving on with your life and probably on to other men too. Being attractive plus the endless number of parties you went to now was just the perfect recipe. You were bound to have found someone.

And this is where the hatred washed over him. He despised it. Hated seeing you have fun without him, moving on as if he had never existed. Was it that easy for you to just forget? It seemed unfair that he was still struggling to keep you off his mind while you were out having the time of your life, letting your followers know of that fact too.

Deep down, he knew that he wasn’t happy for you at all. He was just trying to kid himself into thinking that he was. Be mature and everything. That was what both of you had agreed to be when your relationship came to an end. After days of what could probably be called a verbal equivalent of a nuclear war, the two of you had given up.

Crying, shouting, complete silence, you had done it all and there was no end in sight. On day three of radio silence, you felt as if you could do without speaking to Changkyun at all. When you brought it up, he admitted he felt the same. Exhaustion making both of you devoid of any emotion, you agreed to disagree and act like the fight had never happened. You were tired and wanted nothing more to do with it. Or each other. Thinking of yourselves as somewhat grown, you decided to be civil since you were in the same circle of friends, not wanting to burden them with any of your problems.

With so many things left unsaid and ties still loose, there was no way that you could just cut clean. But you never so much as bumped into each other since.

You hadn’t blocked each other though, as you both felt that it was some sign of weakness. Yeah, I’m tough enough to keep them on my socials. They don’t bother me. Not at all. But in the small hours of the morning, you were on each other’s profiles, hoping for a glimpse of what they were up to. Wondering if he had finished that song he was working on. If you were eating well. If he was really seeing Jae-in seriously. If you were well and truly happy.

“Hey, how are you doing?”

Y/N’s doing just fine for themselves, everyone can see that.

“Did you finish that essay?”

No, that’s too random.

“I think about you all the time.”

Shut up Changkyun.

Though you had both agreed to be ‘friends’, there was no easy way in going about messaging one another when you had fought so explosively. Changkyun also felt that he had missed the right timeframe for him to salvage whatever there was left of the relationship. Whether it be platonic or romantic. No matter how much he wanted to message you, his pride falsely masked as maturity stopped him from ever doing more than wish for you to call him and say that everything was going to be ok. That you can start over.

“Do you wanna go to Minhyuk’s house party?” Jae-in’s voice was heavy with sleep, squinting her eyes at the bright screen of her phone. Changkyun was startled from his thoughts, not realising that she had been woken up by a text.

“House party…?” Changkyun was dubious.

“It’s ok if you don’t want to, it’s just that we don’t ever do anything besides fuck, and I thought we could do with a change of scenery.”

“I mean yeah it’s just that we’ve never hung out with other people before. Like together.”

He had met Jae-in at a bar a few months ago. Holed up in his studio after the breakup, Changkyun got to channelling his anger into working on his music until his course mate Minhyuk persuaded him out for drinks. Minhyuk had flirted with the girls from the table over to get them to join in on the pity party. Jae-in had seated herself next to Changkyun and a few drinks later, they had quickly bonded over their childhood obsession with Death Note to which she followed up with an invitation to watch it at her place. Who was Kyun to reject? With all this pent-up energy to spare, music wasn’t quite cutting it.  

“I doubt anyone will care that we arrived together.” Jae-in shrugged. “Let’s go.”

-

“Yeah, I invited Jae-in and I think Changkyun might come with her too.” Minhyuk stated nonchalantly over the phone. You choked on your wine and thanked God that the music in your room was loud enough to cover the unnatural sound you had just made. “Y/N, is that ok? I should have asked you befo-”

“No, I don’t care.” You replied a little too quickly, “It’s been months and we broke up on good terms anyway, remember?”

“MINNIE! I MISS YOU!” Soobin drunkenly shouted across the room as Yerim held her back from throwing herself at the phone.

“I MISS YOUR FACE TOO, BINNIE! I’LL SEE YOU LATER!” Minhyuk chuckled as he didn’t hesitate to match her volume through the phone.

“Ugh, you two make me sick”, Yerim rolled her eyes, “You literally saw each other this morning. Just get together already.”

As Soobin and Minhyuk continued to chat, engulfed in their own little world, you reached to grab another drink. If Minhyuk’s predictions were right, you were going to need something stronger than wine to get you through the night.

-

Stepping into Minhyuk’s apartment, Changkyun could feel the bass rumble underneath his feet already.

“Hey! You made it! I thought you guys weren’t going to come, it’s so late! But we have drinks and snacks in the kitchen. Oh, and Jae-in, the bathrooms just through the hallway on the right…” Minhyuk’s voice trailed off into the loud music. Changkyun followed behind Jae-in as his friend gave the newcomer a guided tour of his place.

Though he was familiar with the apartment, it felt a little weird for him to walk through it with someone else by his side. A pack of cards strewn over the floor jogged his memory back to a particularly warm night in June. With the sun just beginning to rise, you both stood below Minhyuk’s balcony at 4am. You shouted,

“HEY MINHYUK, WE’RE GOING TO PLAY UNO AT YOUR PLACE, D’YOU WANNA JOIN?”

“THOUGHT WE’D ASK IN CASE YOU’D FEEL LEFT OUT.” Changkyun added. You both snickered as Minhyuk opened his window to shout back at you, regretting that he had ever given you two the spare keys to his apartment.

“ARE YOU REALLY INVITING ME TO PLAY CARDS MY OWN HOUSE RIGHT NOW?!” Birds fluttered away startled, as a neighbouring window flashed on a light in annoyance. Your shouting combined could never top the sheer volume of Minhyuk’s voice. Changkyun grabbed your hand as you ran into the building laughing before the neighbour could join in on the screaming match.

With classes finished for the year, you had what felt like an infinite amount of time on your hands. Kyun smiled to himself as he was reminded of those summer nights that he had spent with you. Stargazing, pillow talking, daydreaming on repeat.

“Yeah, so you can get to the outdoor space through the living room but I’m giving you special access to my little balcony through my room because you’re uh, Changkyun’s friend.” Minhyuk grinned as he ended his tour.

Upon entering the actual party in the lounge, Changkyun stopped in his tracks at the sight of you on the other side of the room. For a moment, the smoke in the room seemed to clear as his eyes trained on you throw your head back in laughter at Yerim’s animated storytelling. Hearing your voice so crystal clear made his heart swell with something that he couldn’t quite put into words. Half a year had passed since he had last seen you, sat broken on the floor of your apartment, explaining that it would be best to part ways. You had looked so drained of emotion then; it was such a stark contrast to what he was seeing now. He stood frozen, heart beating hard against his chest like a hammer.

“Kyun! Why are you so late?” Wonho, another friend of Kyun’s appeared out of nowhere with a bottle of tequila in his hand. “You gotta catch up on the drinks now, come on, open your mouth.” Wonho went to grab his face with one hand as he proceeded to try and pour some alcohol into his mouth jokingly. Changkyun chuckled as he play-fought with Wonho only to stop midway when he noticed Jae-in smiling at the sight.

“Oh, this is my friend Jae-in.” Kyun straightened up and brushed off his clothes.

Wonho went to shake her hand as Minhyuk snuck up behind him.

"Yeah, friend.” He giggled as he raised his brows suggestively and left as quickly as he appeared shouting, “Binnie! Where are you? We gotta go make those s’mores you wanted!”

Changkyun rolled his eyes and smiled as he guided Jae-in to the nearest table of drinks and set to introducing her to the rest of his friends, hoping that you wouldn’t notice him.

-

At this point, the three of you were beyond gone. Soobin had already passed out with a s’more in her hand as Minhyuk hauled her over his shoulder to put her to sleep in the guest room.

“And she.. she was telling me to sythensi.. she was telling me thynsenise, no, synsi.. she wanted me to synthesise, there we go, snythi…” Yerim tripped over words, dead set on getting her pronunciation right while Hyungwon sat and nodded with his signature painful smile on his face. She was determined, hand on his shoulder with a grip that let him know he wasn’t going anywhere until she had finished her story.

As for you? You were sat next to Yerim, a vacant smile on your face as you struggled to keep your eyes open. Day drinking followed up with a house party in the evening really wasn’t the best idea for the lightweights that you are but there you were, listening to your friend repeat the same sentence over and over again. An urgent voice in your head piped up, letting you know that you should probably go for a breath of fresh air.

“Yerim, hey, Yerim, I’m.. going for some air… stay with Hyungwon okay? Hyungwon, call me if anything happens?” You stood up, struggling to find your balance and teetered across the room to get to Minhyuk’s balcony.

The thing about you is that you are one of those blessed people that can sober up as quickly as they get smashed. You felt refreshed, taking in a deep breath as if to cleanse your alcohol ridden bloodstreams with the cool evening air. Your head still spun a little but as long as you kept your eyes anchored on the moon, you’d be fine in no time.

As much as your body needed a break from the party, it wasn’t the greatest timing for your mental state. Once you had assumed that Changkyun wasn’t coming to the party, you let go of the anxiety holding you back from enjoying yourself. You had been overstimulated from the alcohol, music, and people, not giving yourself a chance to think about anything else. But once those factors were gone, it was just you, alone with your drunken thoughts on a balcony looking up at the moon. And just like that, those suppressed memories regarding a certain boy couldn’t help but unpack themselves from your unconscious. Oh man, this was going to be such a good cry.

-

Changkyun was beginning to feel a little too tipsy for his liking. Though he was having a great time, it felt as if he wasn’t entirely present at the scene, like he was watching and laughing along through a TV screen. He slipped away from the kitchen island to get a breather.

“Oh shit, sorry, I didn’t realise anyone was here.” He apologised, going to close the door of Minhyuk’s balcony to a figure hunched over the railing. You looked up from your hands at him and tried to focus on the blurry face.

His movements faltered when your eyes met, door still open. Just one look at you was enough for that knock back into reality Changkyun had needed. God were you a sight for sore eyes. He drank up the way your cheeks and nose were flushed pink, how your eyes were glossy in the moonlight, eyelashes thick with tears, and the way the softly coloured city lights behind you framed your face. With the night air stained with your perfume and the sounds of muted traffic perfecting the scene, he had never felt so in the present until now. He wanted this moment to last a lifetime.

“Changkyun?” You replied, as you wiped your eyes clear of the tears blurring your vision. You could tell that voice apart anywhere, you only questioned in the slight chance that you were just hallucinating, going insane.

“Are you ok? I can leave if you want, I-” He began hurriedly, knowing that you hated having anyone see you cry.

“I’m fine.” You sniffed.

“Bad day?” He asked softly, bringing himself to stand next to you, looking over at the cityscape.

“Yeah, something like that.” You replied, letting out a small laugh as you wiped the last of the tears from your face. 

Tension hung so thick in the air you could feel it weigh down on your shoulders. Changkyun hated that you, the person he had once shared the deepest parts of his mind with, was someone he was now so uncomfortable with.

You both stood there awhile, looking out at the blinking lights of the cityscape. As quiet as it was, you could almost hear the sound of your brains whirring, going back and forth over whether or not you should say something to break the silence. Changkyun had spent months thinking of questions he wanted to ask you for when this moment came, but the alcohol and nerves fogged up his mind. All he could think of doing was holding you in his arms, hoping for you to be able to feel his apologies, sincerity and promises through the beating of his chest.

A heavy pressing in your lungs only intensified, as you thought about how the present situation had become the outcome of those few perfect years. You regulated your breathing, trying to break down the lump from coming up in your throat, on the verge of tears again. Thinking back, you realised that you probably could have been a little more understanding, could have softened your sharp words, could have opened your heart up some more to allow for Changkyun to do so in return. These thoughts and emotions bubbled up inside your chest to spill out of your mouth before you even knew what you wanted to say.

“Changkyun, I-”

“I found a really nice place for nights like this. Y/N.” he cut across with an anxious tremble in his voice. He could feel the apology ready to tumble from your lips, he had to stop you from apologising for things that you really didn’t need to. He hated that your heart was so big and so loving that you were willing to start trying to mend this relationship first. But he hated himself more for not having the courage to try to be even half as loving as you are.

He continued, still looking out over the balcony, worried that he’d start to tear up if he met your eyes again, “you can see the stars so clearly, it’s insane.”

You turned to him, tears welling in your eyes again. Despite having cut each other from your lives for what felt like a lifetime, it broke you how he could still read you like his favourite book.

“Can we go? Y/N? I’ve waited so long to show you.”

Hot tears fell down your cheeks again as Changkyun noticed and turned to you, pulling you into his chest as you cried out the mess of emotions you had amassed. 

The person you had wanted to talk about your breakup with Changkyun the most, was so ironically Changkyun. He’d know how to calm you down, how to sort out your problems with ice cream in bed like any other issue you were facing. But what were you supposed to do when you had cut the one who understood you the most so bluntly from your life? Who were you supposed to turn to when you wanted to talk about that?

Your cries pierced into his heart deeper with every second that passed, feeling the hurt in your voice in the deepest parts of his soul. He replied by holding you tighter, and you could feel all those things he left unsaid that day you left in the warmth of his chest.

“We don’t have to rush,” He whispered into your hair, “I have all the time in the world for you. Let it out.”

He brought a hand up from your shoulders hesitantly, feeling almost undeserving of comforting you after the pain he had caused you. But to you, his hand stroking your hair was where you found your solace.

So, there you stood, in each other’s arms having poured out your hearts to one another without having said a single word. But you both knew that you felt every single one.

#monsta x #monsta x imagines #monsta x scenarios #monsta x oneshot #monsta x fluff #monsta x reactions #monsta x au #monsta x im #monsta x im changkyun #monsta x changkyun #changkyun im #changkyun imagines #changkyun scenarios #changkyun reaction #changkyun fluff #changkyun au #im changkyun #changkyun #changkyun x reader #monsta_x #monsta x ot7

[azuriteartist]

Trend Setter

A/N: This is a fic for February of @mlwritersguild (Oh my god it’s MAY)

The prompt was:

“How can we trust the girl when we have no idea who she really is?”

“Alya.”

“Is she a super hero or super weirdo?”

“Alya?”

“We have a right to know!!!”

“Alya!”

Whipping awake, Alya quickly stares at the person who broke her out of her nightmare, none other than her bluenette friend, Marinette.

“Ughhh…what’s going on?”

“Alya, class ended 10 minutes ago. I’ve been trying to wake you since. You fell asleep during poetry, but it was about sleeping beauty, so I don’t think anyone noticed.”

“Oh. Uhhh, thanks…”

“Are you doing okay, this is the 4th time this week that something like this has happened? I know I can’t throw stones, but I know MY reasons for falling asleep, what are your reasons?”

“Oh, just…working on assessments, you know me, ha ha ha…”

---

Alya awoke to her lying in Chloe’s bed.

“…huh?”

Removing the sheets, she got up out of the bed, looking around the overly opulent room. That’s when she saw Chloe, lying face down on the floor.

“Chloe! What’s going on, why am I…”

Fear started building in Alya as she noticed that Chloe wasn’t moving.

“Chloe…?”

She ran over, bending down and trying to feel Chloe’s pulse.

Alya’s head snapped to the door where Rena Rouge was shot through the door, pinned to the wall via a locked symbol.

“How can we trust the girl when we have no idea who she really is?”

Alya stood transfixed by fear as Lady Wifi burst through the door and started walking towards Rena Rouge.

“Is she a super hero or super weirdo?”

Lady Wifi walked closer, Rena Rouge struggling against the icons holding her in place.

Lady Wifi grasped the fox pendant in her hands, before her head snapped towards Alya.

“We have a right to know!!!”

---

Almost jumping out of bed, Alya awoke to darkness, with only the city’s lights illuminating part of her bedroom.

Grabbing her phone and glasses, she read 4:00AM on her alarm clock.

“ughhhh…”

Too late to go back to sleep, too early to do anything else, she grabbed her phone scrolled through her socials. An akuma attack did happen, but it was just Mr. Pigeon. He was so unnoteworthy he didn’t even warrant an announcement.

Looking through her chat client, she noticed Marinette was online.

---

[AmazingAlya]: Hey girl, what are you doing up so early?

[NotMarinette]: Oh, just couldn’t sleep, that’s all.

[AmazingAlya]: Tell me about it.

[NotMarinette]: Oh? Is something wrong?

[AmazingAlya]: Well…not wrong exactly just…It’s nothing girl, as amazing as you are, it’s about being akumatised. I’d have better luck talking to Nino about this stuff.

[NotMarinette]: You can talk to me about it? Sympathy isn’t entirely reliant on shared experiences. Besides, like he’s gonna be awake at 4am in the morning, anyway?

[AmazingAlya]: Hahah, yeah, sure, fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.

[NotMarinette]: Noted.

[AmazingAlya]: When you’re akumatised, you don’t really REMEMBER things, but it does leave an impact.

[AmazingAlya]: I’ve been getting these…dreams where Lady Wifi walks in and…uhh, threatens me, essentially.

[AmazingAlya]: And I know it’s not me, but it sorta…is? Just a really, really warped version of me. Whenever I see Lady Wifi, I see…me?

[NotMarinette]: I…I never knew you guys got those dreams. I thought everything went back to normal?

[AmazingAlya]: It mostly does, I’ve just got a lot going on right now with certain…stuff? Y’know? End of term assessment, etc. It’s just stress. They don’t really appear otherwise, I’ve just got a lot of pressure on me to be the best me that I can be. Trust me, it’s nothing to worry about.

[NotMarinette]: Gimme a few seconds, I need to look at something.

[AmazingAlya]: Oh? Sure? You okay?

[NotMarinette]: Yeah, I’m fine. Just needed to do some calculations for your present.

[AmazingAlya]: Present? Aww girl, you’re so sweet! But…what for?

[NotMarinette]: It’s a surprise! But it’s clothing, so meet up at my place before school starts so you can change.

[AmazingAlya]: I guess? I will wait with anticipation.

[NotMarinette]: Alright, I gotta hurry to get this done in time, so bye!

[AmazingAlya]: Bye!

[AmazingAlya]: …please don’t tell me you’re skipping breakfast to get this done?

---

Alya stood in the slightly chilly morning air, waiting by the side entrance to Marinette’s house. She had arrived 30 minutes before school started, hopefully enough time to get changed into this mystery outfit.

The door then abruptly opened, revealing a tired Marinette behind it.

“I’m sure this surprise gift would’ve been just as impactful tomorrow or like, in a month?” Alya said, concerned.

“Nope, this is done now! You deserve it!” Marinette said as she pulled Alya in for a hug.

“Now come upstairs, it’s laid out for you on my chaise lounge”

Marinette then grabbed Alya by the hand, and with a quick hello to a confused Sabine Cheng walking down the stairs, she was pulled up the spiraling stairs and into Marinette’s room.

---

Alya walked into the room and looked at the outfit.

“…Woah.”

The top was a Black t-shirt with a spray-painted white wifi symbol on the chest.

There was a skirt with an asymmetrical diagonal line, and black leggings.

And fingerless black gloves that went to the wrist.

“Do you like it?” Marinette asked meekly from behind Alya.

“Do I like it?! Of course girl! This looks awesome! Let me get it on!”

---

Alya strode into school that morning, confidence beaming. There was no doubt on her face, no trace of insecurity on her mind, no haunting thoughts to trouble her.

She knew who she was, she was Alya Cesaire, temporary holder of the fox miraculous, award-winning journalist, a daughter from a loving family, and a friend with friends aplenty. She wasn’t Lady Wifi, and she dared Hawkmoth to try and akumatise her again.

#miraculous ladybug #Alya Césaire #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #miraculous writer's guild

[ukulelecal]

Bloom - Part Two

The story of flowers.

Pairing: Poet!Luke Hemmings x Female!OC

Warnings: a bit more angst but def more fluff. implied smut. a couple swears probably. hella feelings. mentions of anxiety

Word Count: 6.8k

A/N: here is the second part!! less sad than the first!! lol anyways, i hope you guys love it, there will be one more part after this! reminder that feedback and reblogs are sosososo important to creators x 

series masterlist

my masterlist // posted on ao3

*One year later*

Devon’s new school wasn’t all that she had imagined it to be.

Her classes were great. She was learning so much and her professors were very encouraging and helpful. Everything else, however, wasn’t so ideal.

She wasn’t fond of her classmates. Perhaps she was just so used to her old school, but everyone rubbed her the wrong way. She had only found a few friends that she trusted, but she didn’t even see them much. They had attended undergrad at that school, and they already knew everyone. Devon couldn’t quite make her way into the friend group.

She wasn’t a fan of the city, either. It simply didn’t have the vibe or the excitement that home did.

Home. She tried not to use that word to describe where she once lived, but her mind continuously went back to it. She knew exactly why.

That’s where Luke was.

Devon hadn’t heard from him since she moved. She left with a very brief goodbye and good luck wish, but that was it. She held back her tears during the Uber ride to the airport and all through the plane ride.

Luke, now alone in the apartment, broke down as soon as she left. He should have been the one taking her to the airport, kissing her goodbye and promising that everything would be okay. But nothing was okay anymore.

It had been a year since Devon moved, and the now broken up couple was doing a lot better. Devon distracted herself with schoolwork and trying to find her place in her new environment. She took up kickboxing as well as a way to let out her emotions, although the muscles she was developing were a plus as well.

Luke still had the same coping mechanism he always had; writing poetry. He poured his heart and soul into countless poems. They were completely raw, completely honest. He held nothing back. Frankly, they were his best work.

Devon’s first year of grad school officially came to an end. It was as if a weight was lifted off her shoulders. She couldn’t say she was happy there, but she wasn’t there to make friends. She was there to get her master’s, and she wasn’t going to quit. For herself and for her family.

A very unexpected text quickly changed any plans that Devon might have had for the summer.

It was from Luke.

“Hey Devon. I know it’s been a while and I hope grad school is going well. But it's official. My first poetry book is getting published. You probably don’t want to hear from me, and I understand, but you were always the person that believed in me the most. Thank you for that. Truly. I wouldn’t be here without you. I’m having a release party in a few weeks. Nothing big, just close friends and family. It would mean a lot to me if you came.”

Her heart skipped a beat as soon as she saw his name flash across her screen. Not a single word had been exchanged between them in the past year. A part of Devon had been wishing that he would reach out, even if it was just to say hi and check in. She almost texted him a few times, but something always stopped her.

Hearing from him after so long brought an array of emotions, but the one that overwhelmed her the most was pride.

Devon knew how much this meant to him. He opened up to her about it on their very first date freshman year. She remembered sitting across from him at the coffee shop on campus, and the way his eyes lit up as he talked about releasing a book. She found his passion admirable, and she had every faith in him that he would succeed. She was his biggest supporter through the years; she was there to comfort him when he got rejected and help him through his bouts of writer’s block. He always told her that she was his biggest inspiration. Most of his poems ended up being about her in some capacity.

Despite everything that happened between, Devon couldn’t fathom missing this momentous time in his life.

With a deep breath, she typed out a reply.

“I would love to come. It means a lot that you thought of me.”

The weeks leading up to the party were utterly nerve wracking, for both Devon and Luke.

It took Luke a few days to work up the courage to invite Devon. He was scared she hated him and wouldn’t care to come, that she would be appalled at him thinking even for a second that she might want to see him again. It took a lot of convincing from Ashton, a college friend that he invited to move into the apartment once Luke realized he couldn’t afford the rent on his own and that he couldn’t stand being in the apartment by himself, but he did it. Luke wasn’t sure he breathed at all in the minutes it took her to respond.

Now that she was officially attending, it left the two to question what seeing each other would be like after a year apart. Would it be awkward? Would they end up having another argument and cause more pain? Would they be unrecognizable to each other?

The uncertainty was painstaking, but Devon reminded herself that she was there to support Luke, and Luke reminded himself that he would have given up a long time ago if it weren’t for Devon.

The time finally came for the release party. They both hardly slept the night before. Luke was alone in the bed that he used to share with the woman he hadn’t seen in a year, while she laid in a hotel bed just blocks away. Things felt different knowing that they weren’t hundreds of miles away anymore, and the next day they would see each other.

Devon pandered around her hotel room all day, doing her best to distract herself. She scrolled through every channel on the television, but nothing kept her attention. She did a workout, but every song on her workout playlist managed to remind her of Luke in some way.

They day dragged on until it was finally time for Devon to get ready. She played calming music in the shower to slow her heart rate and took her time doing her hair and makeup. It took some effort to steady her hands, but she got the job done.

Luke had been able to keep himself busy all day. A couple of his friends, Calum and Michael, shared a flat that was decently bigger than Luke’s apartment, and graciously offered to host the party there. Him and Ashton went over there early to make sure the place was clean and that all the food and drinks were ready.

Once guests started arriving, the nerves came back in full force.

He could only hope that he was really ready to see Devon.

For her, the Uber ride to the address Luke gave her hit every single red light. She bounced her leg in the back seat, unsure if she was thankful for the longer ride or if she hated it. On one hand, it gave her more time to prepare herself. However, every passing second made her nervousness increase.

Time stopped when the car parked in front of the flat.

She stared at it for a moment, the fact that Luke was just inside making her fingers tremble.

She didn’t realize she was still sitting there until the driver asked her if she was okay. She quickly thanked him and climbed out of the car.

Devon slowly made her way up the walkway, reminding herself with each step that this was a huge deal for Luke. His dreams were finally coming true. He had expressed to her that he credited her in part for his success. He must not have harbored any major negative feelings against her, otherwise she wouldn’t have been invited.

She almost felt a sense of calm as she reached the front door.

She slowly pushed it open, Luke having told her it would be unlocked and she could let herself in. Once inside, she didn’t see him right away. She recognized some friends from her undergraduate days, but nobody seemed to notice her right away.

A tall figure came out from the kitchen, and Devon had to do a double take.

Luke had certainly grown in their year apart.

His curls were shorter in the back and longer on top, and it looked like they had been dyed at some point. He opted for a pair of glasses instead of contacts, and he had a beard. She had never seen him with more than some stubble. He had on a forest green sweater that she always said was her favorite; she wondered if he had worn it on purpose. She couldn’t blame him if he did, considering she was wearing the long sleeved, yellow floral dress that Luke always said he loved on her.

He looked completely different, but at the same time, he was still her Luke.

All of her anxieties melted away the second he looked at her.

“Devon.”

It felt so natural. It was as if all of the pain that came from the last time they saw each other had gone away. They both knew in the back of their minds there wasn’t any bad blood between them, as much as their breakup hurt. Neither had exactly done anything wrong.

“You made it,” he continued through a deep breath.

“You know I wouldn’t miss this for the world, Lu.”

Devon looked the same. Her hair was a little longer than the last time he saw her, and he could tell that she had put on some muscle from the way she filled out her dress a little more. She looked good, healthy.

Luke silently thanked whoever was listening that she seemed alright, at least physically. He could acknowledge that he went into a bit of a downward spiral in terms of taking care of himself when she left. He hardly slept and completely shut himself out from everyone that reached out to him. Ashton moving in helped, but certain days made it bad again, like when their anniversary and Devon’s birthday passed. He didn’t want the same for her. He wanted her to do better than him.

Devon had her bad days too. She did better at the beginning when she had so much on her plate, but once things settled down, she was a wreck for a while, not much different than what Luke was like.

He hesitated only a moment before taking Devon into his arms. He prepared himself for her to pull away, but she did quite the opposite. She melted into him, cheek resting against the soft material of his sweater.

Devon remembered all the times she needed a hug. Whenever she had a bad day or was stressed out over school or simply just wanted to be held, Luke was always there. He would mumble a soft assurance under his breath as he took her into his arms, holding her tight as if she’d be gone forever if he let go. He would whisper whatever it was she needed to hear at the moment, although sometimes it was nothing at all.

She didn’t realize how badly she needed this one.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Dev,” Luke whispered into her hair. He could smell the same coconut shampoo she always used and the warm, sweet perfume she always wore. It brought a sense of comfort and familiarity.

“I’m glad to be here. I...I really missed you, Luke.”

The confession felt good. She tried to deny the fact that she missed him, but seeing him again, she realized how much she really had.

“I missed you too.”

Luke pulled away from the hug and kept his hands on Devon’s shoulders. The same blue eyes met the same brown ones. The ghosts of smiles tugged at their corners of their lips. Every worry they had about seeing each other had gone away.

“I want to say congratulations on your book,” Devon mumbled, fiddling with the small clutch she brought. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you,” he responded, a slight blush creeping up his cheeks. “I have to say, I-”

His sentence got caught off by a shout of his name from an arriving guest. He sighed and sent Devon an apologetic look. There was a lot that needed to be said, so much that needed to be talked about, but they knew that this wasn’t the time or place to do so.

“It’s fine, go on. We’ll catch up later, bub-” she cut herself off, the pet name she called him so often about to slip from her lips so naturally. “Okay?”

Luke sighed sadly but gave her a smile. He understood why she stopped herself, but God, he would have loved to hear her call him that again.

“Okay. See you in a bit, Dev.”

Luke slowly walked away to greet the new arrivals while Devon wandered off to find people she knew. She came across her good friends from undergrad - mutual between her and Luke - who thankfully seemed excited to see her. They made small talk and asked about grad school before easing into questions about Luke. She should have expected it, but she hadn’t talked much about the breakup since it first happened. It was easy to simply not mention it to her grad school group and they wouldn’t know the difference, but these were the girls that she called sobbing at random times during the day when she needed to talk. It was natural that they were curious.

“Did you two talk at all while you were gone?” One asked, and Devon shook her head.

“No,” she sighed. “I think that was best, though.”

Devon’s eyes trailed to the right. Luke was talking to some family members, laughing. A small grin tugged at the corners of her lips. His laugh was musical and contagious. She always felt proud of herself when she made him laugh. Not that it was a difficult task; he loved to laugh. For Devon, getting to hear the noise was like a gift.

“Dev!”

She snapped her gaze back to her friends. Their expressions were a mixture of smug and concerned. It was obvious that Devon hadn’t gotten over Luke in the past year. She still looked at him the same way she always did. They were still concerned that she would get her heart broken again.

“You still love him, don’t you?”

Devon glanced over at him one more time. She tried to convince herself that she didn’t. She almost threw away her shoebox of poems just to prove it to herself, but she couldn’t do it. It would always be him.

“Of course I do.”

…

The rest of the night, Luke and Devon didn’t speak. They weren’t avoiding each other, but the weight of the conversation they needed to have required the crowd to go away and the festivities to die down before it could happen. They exchanged glances and small smiles, saving the talking for later.

Devon purposely hung back as the crowd startled to trickle out the door. Luke had made a small speech thanking everyone for coming and celebrating with him. Everyone took it as the hint that the party was over. Deciding to help out while she waited, Devon busied herself cleaning up a bit in the kitchen.

Footsteps caught her attention, but they didn’t belong to who she figured they did. Instead of seeing Luke, she saw Ashton. He was Luke’s best friend, and while him and Devon never got super close, she still considered him a friend.

“Hey, Dev,” Ashton greeted with a grin, opening his arms for a hug that she gladly accepted.

“Hi, Ash. How have you been?”

“Good. Just working,” he chuckled as he pulled away from the hug. “You? How’s grad school?”

“It’s pretty good.” Good if he asked about her academics and not her social life, that is.

“That’s good.”

Ashton leaned against the counter across from her, shooting her a look. She raised her eyebrows in expectation.

“Luke’s been freaking out, you know,” Ashton mumbled, sticking his hands in his pockets. “About seeing you.”

Devon sighed and ran a hand through her hair. Somehow, knowing that he was nervous too was comforting.

“Glad it wasn’t just me.”

“He really missed you. I’m sure he’ll tell you all this himself, but in case you don’t believe him, take it from me. He missed you so, so much.”

Devon couldn’t help but smile a little. It was good to hear it from someone else.

“I missed him too. A lot.”

Before Ashton could reply, Luke stepped into the kitchen, eyes flickering back and forth between his best friend and his ex girlfriend. Words got caught in Devon and Luke’s throats, neither of them sure what to say.

“I guess that’s my cue to get out,” Ashton joked, breaking the awkward silence. “Let me know when you’re ready to go home, Luke.”

The man walked out of the kitchen to help Calum and Michael clean up in the living room while Devon turned to look at Luke with furrowed eyebrows.

“Home?” She questioned.

“Ashton moved into the apartment a little while after you left,” Luke admitted, scratching the back of his neck. He took Ashton’s spot against the counter. “I needed a roommate to help with the rent.”

He left out the fact that being alone in there only reminded him that she was gone and he needed someone to keep him company.

Devon nodded in understanding, but felt another twinge of guilt. She hadn’t considered that she was leaving the financial burden onto him. Thankfully Ashton was there.

“How was your night?” Devon asked genuinely. The party was to celebrate his success, and she genuinely hoped he enjoyed it.

“It was really great.” Luke sent her a thankful grin. “I know I said it before, but it really means a lot to me that you’re here. I was afraid you wouldn’t want to come.”

“This is everything you’ve ever wanted. After everything we’ve been through, I would never miss this moment in your life.”

Devon sent him a sad smile that he returned. There was still so much that needed to be said, so much to discuss. A tension hung between them, but not one of anxiety or dread. It was desperation and desire. A yearning for what they once had.

“We need to talk, Dev,” Luke whispered what they were both thinking. “Like, really talk.”

“I know we do.” She glanced at the clock on the wall beside his head. “But it’s getting late. My flight back isn’t until Monday. Maybe we can meet up tomorrow, if you’re free? Get lunch?”

Luke nodded in agreement. It would be best if they both got some sleep and recharged before talking seriously.

“That sounds good.” Luke turned to look at the clock as well and laughed. “I know it’s past your bedtime.”

Devon rolled her eyes playfully. She was the “go to bed early, wake up early” type, while Luke was the opposite.

“Exactly. I need my beauty sleep.”

“Boy, do I know it.”

The two laughed together, for the first time in a long time. It felt so right.

“I should head back then,” Devon announced, reaching behind to grab her clutch that she had set on the counter. “Let me just call an Uber and I’ll be out of here.”

“Don’t worry about that. Ash and I came together, he’ll drive you back. Where are you staying?”

Not one to turn down a free ride, Devon rattled off the name of her hotel. Luke led her to the living room to get Ashton and say goodbye to Calum and Michael. Luke thanked them again for letting him have the party at their place before they were out the door and piled in Ashton’s car. Luke took shotgun while Devon slipped into the back.

The ride to the hotel was quiet. Only Ashton’s soft indie music and the sound of other cars filled the car. Shortly, Ashton pulled to a stop in front of Devon’s hotel. Luke turned around in his seat to face her.

“Thanks again for coming, Dev,” he mumbled softly, a grin on his face.

“Thanks for inviting me. And thanks for the ride, Ashton.” He nodded in acknowledgement before she turned her gaze back to Luke. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Tomorrow. Who knows what tomorrow would bring?

“See you tomorrow.”

Devon climbed out of the car and headed towards the doors, sparing one last glance and a wave before heading inside. Luke watched as she walked in, a small sigh escaping his lips. He turned his head to see Ashton with a smirk on his face.

“What?” Luke questioned.

“You still love her, don’t you, mate?”

Luke sighed again, glancing back towards the doors. Devon was already out of sight, probably in the elevator already. He knew exactly what she was going to do when she got to her room. She would kick off her shoes and then take her makeup off. She’d go through her night time skin care routine, put her hair in a bun with a silk scrunchie, and finally change into her pajamas, which were usually just a big t-shirt and panties. She would probably spend some time reading or watching cooking videos on TikTok before going to bed.

“Of course I do.”

…

Devon swiped one last bit of lip gloss across her lips when Luke texted her that he was outside. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed her purse and phone before heading downstairs to meet him.

The anxiety was coming back. Seeing Luke was one thing, but having a full on conversation was another. It didn’t help that the conversation would surely lead to the topic of their relationship. Their breakup.

Luke was feeling similarly. He had paced around the apartment all morning until Ashton gave him a pep talk. He reminded him that if they didn’t talk, Devon would just leave again and nothing would change. Nothing would get fixed.

The sound of a creaky car door opening snapped Luke from his thoughts, looking up to see Devon climbing in. He sent her a smile.

“Hey, Dev.”

“Hey, Luke. Bertha’s still kicking, I see?” Devon joked as she buckled her seatbelt. She knew that Luke wasn’t going to get rid of his beloved Prius until absolutely necessary, but the fact that the car still functioned at all was shocking.

“I think it might be her time soon, but for now, she gets me where I need to go.”

Bertha survived the drive to the small diner that Devon and Luke agreed on, albeit the radio cut out a few times. It was a new place and Luke had been wanting to try it. A part of Devon wondered if he really wanted to try it or if he just didn’t want to take her to one of the places that they frequented when they were together. Frankly, she wouldn’t have wanted to go to one of their old spots either. It would have felt too odd.

Once inside and seated, a waitress came to take coffee orders before scurrying away.

“Tell me about grad school,” Luke began, saving the more serious topics of conversation for later. It was best to start off casual and simply catch up on everything that had happened in the past year.

“It’s alright,” Devon sighed. She would have fibbed, but she felt no need to lie to Luke. “My classes are great. I’ve learned so much and my professors are awesome. It’s just…”

She trailed off, unsure how to put her thoughts into words without sounding pathetic. She didn’t want Luke to judge her.

“What?” He pressed gently, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“It’s the other students, I guess. Everyone at our school was so great, but the people there are just not so friendly. And most of the other grad students did undergrad there, so I couldn’t really fit my way into a friend group. And there’s just not as much to do in the city as there is here,” she explained, her hands occupying themselves with the napkin in her lap.

She locked eyes with Luke, waiting for his response. He could have used it against her. He could have guilt tripped her for leaving and then not being happy. But Luke would never do that and Devon knew it.

“Well that’s not good,” he mumbled sincerely. “I’m sorry, Dev.”

He truly did feel bad. Every day while Devon was gone, he thought about her. He hoped she was having a good day and that her education was going well. It pained him to think that she wasn’t having a great time.

“It’s okay. I mean, I’m there for my master’s, not to make friends.” The waitress came back with their drinks and took their lunch orders. “Anyways, tell me about your book! What happened with the publishers and everything?”

The fact that Devon’s grad school wasn’t everything that she had imagined was still bothering him but Luke went along, knowing she wouldn’t want to talk about it.

“I sent another draft to one of the ones that was interested before, a while after you left. He said he liked the majority of it but wanted a few different ones. It took me a while to figure out what he wanted, but eventually I got it,” he rambled. “I’m really happy with it.”

“I’m glad,” she replied, heart swelling with pride. “When does it come out?”

“Next week.”

Devon hummed in acknowledgement, already making a mental note to pick up a copy for herself.

“How about work?” She questioned after a sip of her cappuccino.

“You’ll never believe it,” Luke chuckled. “I got promoted to a manager position.”

“Really? It’s about time!”

Devon and Luke had a running joke about Luke’s job. He had been there the longest other than the owner, an old woman who still moved like a teenager. She always hung a promotion over his head, suggesting it but never following through. Luke knew she was planning on giving it to him eventually. It was just a matter of time until she actually did, and the two would always make jokes about it.

They made small talk until their food came, causing the duo to fall into silence. Meaningless conversation about the weather could only last so long until what really needed to be talked about came out.

Soup and sandwiches didn’t last long enough. Their plates were cleared and there was no point in stalling anymore.

“I think we fucked up.”

Luke’s statement was unsugarcoated. He couldn't say for sure how Devon felt, but every day throughout the past year, Luke felt like he was making a mistake. Everyone around them was shocked at the news of their breakup; if there were any college sweethearts that would actually last, it would be them. That certainly didn’t help Luke’s pain when everyone else knew it was a mistake too.

Devon felt tears burn the back of her eyes as she nodded softly. He was right. Perhaps it was best at the time, but they couldn’t do another year of being apart.

“I think we did.”

Her voice broke, taking a deep breath to calm herself down and not cry in the restaurant.

“Hey,” Luke cooed soothingly, noticing the tears and reaching across the table for her hand. As his hand encased hers, at that moment, everything felt like it was going to be okay. “Maybe we should go somewhere more private.”

Luke paid the check and made their way back to Bertha. The need for privacy left them with two options; Devon’s hotel room or the apartment.

“Maybe we could go to my hotel room,” Devon suggested. “That way we won’t bother Ashton.”

That was only part of the reason. Devon wasn’t sure how she would feel if she stepped into her old home in the current state of their relationship. All of the memories her and Luke had would come flooding back. The hotel room was a neutral place without connection to what once was.

Luke agreed and drove to the location he remembered from the night before. The elevator ride up to Devon’s room was heavily silent, hands brushing against each other but never interlocking. The sound of the door shutting behind them once in the room was thunderous, the sound signifying that there was absolutely nothing between them and the inevitable anymore.

They stood in the middle of the room for a moment, looking anywhere but each other. There was no good way to start the conversation. There was no easy way to talk about a painful breakup that led to a year apart, then being reunited.

Without the right words in mind, Devon threw herself at Luke. She wrapped her arms tight around his middle and buried her head into his chest. Luke returned the gesture, holding her as close as he could. The hug said more than what either of them could put into words.

It wasn’t until a few minutes that Devon finally found something to say.

“I can’t keep doing this, Lu,” she whispered shakily. “I can’t keep missing you like this.”

“This is all my fault, Dev. I was the one who didn’t think we could do it. Fuck, honey, I’m so sorry.”

Devon surely didn’t think it was his fault. He had every right to be upset that she was moving so far away, and he had every right to be scared of what the distance would do to their relationship. She felt the same way. They broke up to spare themselves the pain of long distance. It hadn’t taken long for them to realize that the pain of being broken up was much, much worse.

As much as she tried to push the thoughts away, Devon couldn’t help thinking about how if she hadn’t left, this wouldn’t have happened. She knew that she did nothing wrong and that her education was just as important, but she had never intended to pursue it in expense of her relationship.

“This isn’t your fault. It was both of us. We were just saving ourselves from the pain. Besides, I was the one that left-”

“No,” Luke cut her off, glancing down at her. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for this. You did absolutely nothing wrong.”

Devon lifted her head up to meet his gaze. His face was serious but his eyes were completely sincere. She had always feared that he would hold a grudge against her for leaving. One look into the gorgeous blue eyes that she fell in love with told her that he didn’t.

“I never want you to blame this on you going to grad school. I want you to know that I completely support your decision and all your aspirations, honey. I will never hold that against you.”

Tears brimmed Devon’s eyes again, but these weren’t tears of pain. They were of love and adoration. Luke was the most amazing man she had ever known. He had a heart of gold and was one hell of a poet. She had never felt so loved as she felt by him.

“Please tell me this isn’t over, Luke,” she whispered, hands moving to cup his bearded cheeks. A single tear slipped down the soft skin of Devon’s cheek. “I love you. I never stopped. Please tell me there can be an us again.”

Luke wasn’t sure when he started crying, but a sudden wetness on his cheek alerted him of the act. His hands tugged Devon’s waist to bring her closer, noses brushing touching and breath mingling. They could hardly remember the last time they had been that close, the last time they felt love so intensely.

“I’ve wanted us back since that day a year ago. I love you more than anything, Devon. Always have, always will.”

For the first time in over a year, Luke and Devon’s lips connected in a kiss. It was nothing short of passionate and heavy. The love they hadn’t been able to express for so long was rising to the surface, coming out in the form of mumbled words, bruising kisses and desperate touches.

Frantic fingers worked the buttons of Devon’s flannel, slowly pushing her backwards until the back of her knees hit the edge of the bed. The offending item was discarded to the floor and the newly reunited couple crawled onto the bed. Devon shivered under Luke, a reaction caused by a mixture of the cool sheets against her bare back and his lips on her neck, his beard providing a new sensation that she hadn’t felt before.

The past year was difficult. If they could go back in time and fix it, they would jump on the opportunity without a second thought. But just maybe, it made them stronger. Maybe they needed to begin to wilt in order for them to bloom.

…

“What do we do now?”

Devon curled closer to Luke as a crisp breeze cut through the darkening evening. He sighed and wrapped the blanket tighter around them.

“I’m not sure.”

The couple sat in the trunk of Luke’s car with the door popped open, parked at a lookout point that overlooked the city. It was something they used to do all the time in college. It was comforting to return to their old traditions, knowing that they had fixed what they broke.

It was Sunday evening, the day before Devon flew back to her grad school city. They may have gotten back together, but they were still faced with the same problem as when they broke up. Devon still had a whole year of grad school left, miles away.

“I’m not sure I want to go back,” Devon admitted, eyes fixed on the city lights. Luke snapped his head to look at her, eyebrows furrowed.

“What do you mean? Are you saying you don’t want to finish your degree?”

Luke would never forgive himself if she gave up her master’s degree because of him. He didn’t want the distance either, but he could never hold her back from her dreams.

“No, no, I want to finish. I just...I wasn’t happy in that city. This is my home. I’m happy here,” she explained. She tore her eyes away from the view in favor of looking at her boyfriend. “With you.”

Luke dipped his head down, pressing a kiss to her temple. Devon leaned into the affection that she had missed so much.

“It’s up to you, honey. I don’t want to hold you back. Just know that if you do stay there, I’m going to really try this time. I promise we’ll make it work, and I’ll be here for you no matter what.”

Devon grinned at his words. She didn’t realize how much she needed to hear that; that the past wouldn’t repeat itself. However, she didn’t want to put either of them through the suffering of a long distance relationship when she didn’t even want to be away.

“I appreciate that, bubs. But I just can’t do that to us after everything we’ve been through.” She thought for a moment, trying to decipher the best course of action. “Maybe I could finish online.”

Luke nodded in acknowledgement; it was a good compromise. Devon got to finish her degree at the school with the best program, and she didn’t have to be so far away. It benefitted Luke as well, not just her. However, he didn’t want to sway her either way.

“If that’s what you want, honey. This is your decision.”

He gave her shoulders a squeeze as she thought it over. The only sounds to be heard were the gentle hum of the city below them and the cold breeze that ruffled the trees. It was so familiar. They had spent countless nights like this, simply enjoying each other’s company and rewinding from hectic college life. Luke had to remind himself that they weren’t undergraduate students anymore; Devon was in grad school and he was a published poet.

It was baffling how everything felt like it had gone back to the way it was, yet things were actually so very different.

“That’s what I want,” Devon announced with confidence after a few moments of pondering. “I want to stay here.”

Matching lovesick grins spread across their faces as they locked eyes. She scooted closer to Luke, if that was even possible, nudging her nose against his.

“You’re sure?” He verified, eyes fluttering closed.

“So very sure.”

He chuckled lowly before closing the gap. The air between them was finally clear. Their relationship was fixed and they would still be together. No more pain and suffering.

Devon rested her head on Luke’s shoulder when the kiss broke, breathing out a content sigh. They enjoyed the silence for a moment before Devon piped up with a question.

“Can I move back into the apartment?”

“Of course you can,” Luke chuckled. “That’s our place. Why couldn’t you?”

“What about Ashton?”

“He understands our situation, babe. He saw this coming. He already asked Calum and Michael if he could take the extra bedroom at their flat if it came to this, and they agreed. As long as you’re fine with living with him for a little while until he moves out, then he’s fine with it too.”

Devon let out a breathy laugh, nodding in understanding.

“I mean, I’ll still have to go back to my apartment out there for a bit to get my stuff.” She looked up at Luke with a hopeful glint in her eye. “Do you think you could come with and help? It’s alright if you can’t.”

“I can come, honey. I’ll see if I can fly out with you tomorrow, but if not I can come a couple days later, so you don’t have to change yours.” A smirk spread across his face before continuing. “Or we could just wait to go together and stay here for another few days. You know, catch up a little more.”

Devon laughed and playfully rolled her eyes, nudging his shoulder.

“What a way with words you have, Hemmings. No wonder you’re a poet.”

“Speaking of poetry, I have something for you.”

Luke pressed a swift kiss to Devon’s cheek before hopping out of the trunk. He opened the door to the back seat and rifled around for a moment, then returning to face Devon. He removed his hand from behind his back, holding it out to her.

“For you.”

Devon took the item from his hand curiously. It only took a moment for her to realize what it was.

It was a book titled The Life of a Flower. The cover was a stunning photo of two orchids side by side, and Luke’s name was printed across the bottom.

His first poetry book.

“You’re the first person to get a copy,” he mumbled sheepishly, breaking Devon from her trance of staring at it. She couldn’t help the tears of pride that welled in her eyes. If seeing the actual, physical book in person was such an emotional moment for her, she couldn’t even imagine how Luke must have felt when he saw it for the first time.

“This is incredible, Luke,” she whispered, smiling despite her tears. “I’m so proud of you, bubs, so fucking proud.”

Devon dropped the blanket from her shoulders and hopped down from the trunk. Her arms found their way around his neck while his found her waist. Pride was an understatement. She had been there every step of the way, and seeing his dreams finally come to life was a wonderful sight to see.

“Thank you, Devon,” Luke whispered into her hair. “For being my biggest supporter. I wouldn’t be here without you.”

“It’s not me, Lu,” she mumbled in response, tilting her head up to look at him. “You have a gift. Your writing got you here, not me.”

“I would have given up on writing a long time ago if I didn’t have you. You give me an endless amount of inspiration that I never had before. A poet’s words are meaningless if his muse isn’t worth writing about.”

“Damn. William Shakespeare has nothing on you,” she joked although she was absolutely melting on the inside. Luke groaned playfully.

“You always ruin the moment. Anyway, look at the first pages.”

Devon removed her arms from his neck to flip through, skipping past the title page, copyright and table of contents until she found what he was talking about. She found a dedications page that only made her tear up again, reading:

“For Devon. You’ll always be my orchid.”

#luke hemmings #luke hemmings imagine #luke hemmings blurb #luke hemmings au #luke hemmings smut #5sos #5sos blurb #5sos imagine #5sos au #5sos smut #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer smut #5 seconds of summer blurb #5 seconds of summer imagine #5 seconds of summer au #luke hemmings x oc #5sos x oc #5 seconds of summer x oc #calum hood #ashton irwin #michael clifford #genny writes

[hottestthingalive]

a storm in your eyes (lightning and dark skies)

It is then, with Virgil curled up against him, wet hair soaking Logan’s neck and the smell of hot chocolate in the air, that Logan realizes he loves a thunderstorm in human form. 

His best friend.

Oh, god, Logan is in love with his best friend. And also his roommate. And also his favorite person in the whole of the universe.

(He’s pretty sure that if Virgil could hear his thoughts, and if, y’know, Virgil wasn’t the person in question, he’d roll his eyes and say, “Oh my god, they were roommates.” The idea nearly makes him laugh.) 

–

Notes: Thank you so much to @snek-snacc, @smileyzs, @confused-sunflower, @xaimelarks​, and all my other followers for putting up with me ranting about this story, and helping me edit. Y’all are the best!

Edit: After publishing this, I got this AMAZING piece of art from @ent-is-undecisive / @birdsongisland! Go check them out, because they’re insanely talented, and looking at this piece makes me so so so happy!

Two sequels also exist for this now! 

waffles and wedding vows (promises and proof)

songs and stars and silence (of loving you)

Hope you enjoy!

Relationships: Romantic Analogical, background romantic Royaliceit, background romantic Intrusleep/rem^2, platonic drlamper

Words: 6885

Ao3

–

Logan Sanders falls in love with a thunderstorm.

Well, not a thunderstorm, exactly. As far as Logan knows (and he knows quite a lot), a tempest, no matter how powerful, cannot take the form of a human.

Still, the first time the boy with a hurricane’s eyes enters Mugnificent (the coffee shop Logan very reluctantly works at), he swears the smell of ozone fills the air. 

His name is Virgil Foley, and he sweeps into Logan’s life like a summer storm, filling it with wind and chaos and unmatched wild beauty. 

The first time they meet, it is 5:26 in the morning, and he’s considering revolt. Yes, he needs this job to supplement his scholarship, but being up this early is awful enough to warrant mutiny. Besides, customers are few this early in the day, and thus the tip jar is woefully empty. 

The door opens with a ding 

(there is a smell like lightning)

and in walks a person with dark hair tied in a bun under a black beanie, rummaging around in their backpack. Their bag is covered in pins, and Logan notes a rainbow one near the center. 

“Hey,” they say, and he meets eyes the color of stormclouds, a grey bordering on purple and blue simultaneously. “Can I just get a small coffee, please? Black is fine.” 

“Yeah,” Logan nods. “Name?”

They glance around the empty Mugnificent with a raised eyebrow, but reply with “Virgil,” anyways. 

“Nice to meet you, Virgil,” says Logan, and he’s not normally one for small talk, but he also is sleep-deprived, and too tired to have any sort of filter. “I’m Logan.”

Virgil relaxes, and they hold out a hand for him to shake. “Nice to meet you, too. I use he/him pronouns, by the way.”

“Ah, yes,” Logan nods, returning the handshake. “He/him for me, as well, thank you.”

Virgil pays and waits by the counter as Logan goes to prepare the coffee, scrolling through his phone. There is a comfortable silence as he makes the drink, which Logan spends mentally cursing out Roman, his coworker who was supposed to arrive for work thirty minutes ago. “Here,” he says finally, holding out the cup for Virgil to take. 

“Thanks.” Virgil is wearing fingerless gloves, and his nails are painted a bright purple. They shine in the fluorescent lighting. “Have a nice day, Logan.”

“You too,” he replies, and it seems too little. Logan doesn’t believe in magic, or gods, or destiny, but as he watches Virgil turn, about to walk out the door, something twangs in his chest. Despite himself, Logan opens his mouth, searching for something to say, anything that will make him stay. 

He blinks, about to speak, and Virgil is gone.

A few minutes later, it begins to rain. 

–

The second time he meets Virgil, it is in his psych class. 

Logan has always liked psychology. It’s fascinating how the human brain works, he thinks, and even if he isn’t always so good at understanding emotions, he’s quite good at the science behind them. His appreciation for said science is the only reason he signs up for the class at all, when it has practically nothing to do with his astrophysics major. 

He’s just about forgotten about the boy with eyes of a storm by the time he sits down for the first psychology class of the semester, pulling his computer and textbooks out of his own bag, and setting them before him. Logan cracks the knuckles on each hand individually, a nervous habit he’s had since he was in high school. He’s done his best to break it, but he supposes, as annoying as it is, it’s better than some of the alternatives.

Case in point, the boy from Mugnificent, who walks into the room nervously tapping his thigh while chewing at his lip. There’s a split in it, one that shines a bright red against the chapped surface, and Logan wants to wince just looking at it. 

His eyes flash with recognition as he spots Logan in one of the back rows, and he pauses. “Logan, right? From the coffee place.”

“And you’re Virgil,” Logan smiles, and okay, maybe he hadn’t forgotten Virgil so much as attempted to forget him. 

“Can I sit there?” he asks, nodding to the seat beside Logan. 

It turns out Virgil is smart, and funny, and just a little bit snarky, and a English major minoring in psychology. He’s got all kinds of nervous habits, chewing on his lip and tapping out rhythms known only to him and drawing on every available surface, and Logan often notices a tendril of ink wrapping around one of his fingers from under his gloves. 

They become fast friends, him and Virgil, bonding over a love for space and science and poetry. He starts coming to Mugnificent for coffee more often, and Roman teases Logan incessantly about it. 

“You’re finally making friends!” he pretends to sob, throwing his arms around him, and he has to shove Roman away, rolling his eyes. Virgil is stifling a laugh behind one gloved hand, and Logan mouths “Traitor,” at him, though he isn’t really mad at all.

They fall into patterns -- psych and history and statistics together, always seated side by side, sometimes accompanied by Roman or Patton or Remus or Janus or any one of their expanding circle of friends. The two of them buy each other coffee, edit essays, go out for junk food (that Logan complains about but secretly loves) with their friends. 

Virgil begs to paint Logan’s nails one night as they watch documentaries together in Patton and Virgil’s dorm room. His tongue sticks out of his mouth slightly as he focuses on the tiny white dots he’s adding, and Logan ends up loving the night sky that graces his fingers. In return, Logan styles Virgil’s long hair into a crown of braids. 

“Your Majesty,” he bows as he leads Virgil to the mirror. 

“If I’m royalty now, I demand a feast to celebrate,” Virgil grins, admiring his hair. “Sir Logan, this calls for pizza!”

“All the junk food you consume is going to kill you one day,” Logan sighs, but he’s already dialing their favorite pizza place.

They eat dinner seated on the floor, holding paper plates and drinking soda as they watch Cosmos. Patton returns to the dorm a few minutes later, accompanied by Janus and Roman both, and snags some of the pizza for himself – luckily, they’d thought to order extra, as soon Remus, Remy, and Emile all show up, too, crowding into the dorm room and around Logan’s laptop. The documentary is switched to Big Hero 6, Virgil showing off his hair and Logan his nails as the others admire them. Soon Virgil is breaking out his nail polish again, painting delicate puppies on Patton’s fingers, and Logan is teaching Roman how to do the same hairstyle on Emile’s curls. 

It’s a Saturday night, so they feel comfortable all crashing in Patton and Virgil’s room, squeezing far too many young adults into one small space. Emile giggles that it reminds them of sleepovers they went to when they were in elementary school, and Remus points out that they ought to play Truth or Dare with a manic grin. Virgil quickly puts a stop to that, however, distracting Remus with conspiracy theories and carving marshmallows to look like Lovecraftian monsters, and Logan wants to laugh because Virgil is very much a mom friend, despite his protests to the contrary. Still, as he sips hot cocoa with a marshmallow Cthulhu staring up at him from the mug, he has to admit it was a good idea. They all get into the fun, carving marshmallows with whatever cutlery Patton and Virgil have in their room, and eventually Monster Mallows will become a tradition for all of their friend group. 

When he falls asleep that night, lying on the floor in the blanket fort Patton and Roman had insisted on building, he dreams of rain and lightning, across dark skies that resemble Virgil’s eyes. 

–

Logan realizes Virgil is his best friend in the middle of winter, when he shows up at Mugnificent at the end of his shift, ordering two coffees and taking them as Logan gets ready to leave. “Sorry, Roman,” Virgil says, though he doesn’t look sorry at all as he hands Logan one of the drinks and reaches out to hold his other hand. “C’mon, L, we’ve got to hurry if we’re going to get there in time.”

“Where are we going?” Logan raises an eyebrow, throwing on his coat and waving goodbye to Roman (who is saying something dramatic about a grievous betrayal) as he sips at the coffee. It’s perfect, his order exactly. 

“Look!” Virgil grins as they leave the coffee shop, and it’s snowing, white flakes falling around them and coating the ground. Some of the cars nearby are already covered in it. “C’mon, we’ve got to get to the park.” 

“Wait, why?” he asks. “Virgil, this looks rather like the makings of a blizzard. We should probably go back to our dorms so we can prepare if we get snowed in.”

“I know it’s a snowstorm,” Virgil rolls his eyes, and his stormy eyes are bluer than Logan’s ever seen them, shining with excitement. “Now, let’s go!”

Logan should probably argue more, but he’s laughing as he gets pulled along, the two half-running towards the park. 

They slow down at the top of a hill already lightly coated with snow, and Virgil reaches into his bag to pull out a picnic blanket. “No,” Logan protests, but he’s cackling as Virgil yells “Snow picnic!” and spreads it over the snow. 

“This is going to turn into a blizzard,” he manages to say, stifling his giggles. “We are going to be buried alive because you wanted to have a picnic in a snowstorm.”

“Oh, shush,” Virgil grins, flopping down onto the blanket and digging into his bag again to retrieve two bagels wrapped in tinfoil. “Drink your coffee and watch the snow with me, Logan Sanders.”

The bagel he hands Logan has Crofters jam instead of cream cheese spread across it, still warm from toasting, and Logan could kiss Virgil if they weren’t very platonic…

Well, it feels like they are a whole lot more than friends, at this point. There’s something about their relationship that feels different from the ones Logan has with their other companions, be it Remus or Emile, Patton or Janus, Roman or Remy. 

Are they best friends?

He asks, and Virgil merely grins and says “I hope so.” 

It’s amazing, lying there as they watch the sky, munching on bagels and sipping at their coffee and pointing out oddly shaped clouds. Virgil is practically covered in snowflakes by the time they have to leave, the wind picking up too much to stay, and Logan is no better. Still, he thinks it was worth it, even when he gets a cold and has to spend the weekend curled up in blankets, sneezing and coughing as he works on his essay for his cosmology class. Virgil gets a cold, too, and they end up on the phone together as they work, Virgil blasting music on his end and Logan parroting his roommate’s consistent reminders to take medicine, and drink some water! 

Emile seems to think it’s cute, for some reason, and they tell Logan to say hi to Virgil for them, a smile playing on their lips that he’s too sick to interpret. 

–

Logan has a crush on a boy in their shared statistics class by March, the one who sits three rows in front of him and two seats to the right, who has green hair and a cheerful grin. Virgil listens patiently about it whenever Logan brings it up, and when they have to pair up for a final project, he pushes him towards his crush, joining Remus instead.

He finds out his crush already has a romantic partner in a strictly monogamous relationship when they’re nearly done with the project, and Virgil shows up to Logan’s dorm room with ice cream and his laptop that night, pulling aside Emile as he comes in and whispering something to him. Emile leaves shortly after, and the two of them are alone.

“What did you tell Emile?” Logan asks later, when they’re sitting on his bed and watching trashy teenage romcoms, because, according to Virgil, “This way, you won’t associate any good movies with this.” 

“Well, Patton invited him for a ‘sleepover,’” Virgil says, eating directly from the carton of chocolate ice cream, gaze shifting from the screen to Logan. “Did the moment he saw your text on the groupchat.”

Logan had texted that his crush has a partner when Roman had begun teasing him about it on said chat. Looking back, it may not have been the best of decisions, but all he wants to do right now is curl into the comforter and watch bad movies, while simultaneously eating unholy amounts of ice cream. 

“It’s not a big deal,” he protests, pulling the blankets closer around him. 

“Listen, L, you’re sad ‘cause the boy you like… well, you know. Anyways, you being sad is a big deal, at least to us.” Virgil isn’t wearing his normal clothes, only a pair of pajama pants and a sweatshirt (Logan knows he ran over in his nightwear, which makes him feel worse), so he can see the ink covering his hands, smudged in places.

“Why do you draw on yourself so much?” He leans over to look at the patterns of spirals winding their way up Virgil’s arms, tracing them with one finger. “That much ink can’t be good for your skin, pretty as it is, Vee.”

Virgil bats his hand away, blushing behind his curtains of dark hair, and Logan laughs. “It’s just a nervous habit, okay?” he exclaims, and Logan pokes his cheek, cooing. 

“Aw, lookit you,” he smiles, and even though Logan’s heart hurts from what happened with his crush, he doesn’t think he would trade anything for his friendship with Virgil Foley. “So cute.”

“I’m not cute,” Virgil grumbles, pressing play on the computer. “Watch the shitty movie and shush, nerd.”

He gets over the boy from statistics eventually, and gets an A on the project, which Roman insists they celebrate with breakfast at Logan’s favorite diner on campus. (Logan’s pretty sure Roman just feels guilty about teasing him about it, but he goes anyways, pulling his friend aside later to tell him it’s fine.)

–

They return from summer vacation changed. Janus, Patton, and Roman are dating now, for one thing, and it’s disgustingly sappy. Emile comes out as asexual and aromantic a few days after they get back, and Logan helps them hang flags in their dorm room when they arrive a week later. Remy has switched majors, from biology to culinary classes, and Remus tells them excitedly that he’s managed to start a rather popular horror comic online. (Logan reads it, and learns Remus is quite adept at art, writing, and scaring the crap out of him. He never looks at door knobs the same way again.) Virgil, meanwhile, has started wearing far less baggy clothes and more makeup – in other words, people around campus start realizing that Virgil is actually hot, and not just a relatively cute bundle of sweatshirts. 

Logan kind of feels weird about it. He knows how aesthetically pleasing Virgil is, of course – they’ve spent enough time together for him to have figured that out – but… well, Logan had realized while he was away how much he’d missed Virgil, even more so than his other friends. He tells himself it is because of how close they are, and ignores the ugly anger in his chest when people flirt with Virgil, or how his heart pounds and face flushes when they curl up to watch movies these days. 

As for him, well, he’s dyed his hair a dark blue, a color so dark it’s almost black. Roman marvels over it, asking how he managed to not damage his hair in the process, and Logan doesn’t feel like telling him that he had meant to do a brighter shade, but hadn’t realized how hard it would be to get proper color without bleaching his normal dark hair. He does end up telling Virgil later, though, when Remy and Patton drag them and the rest of their friends to a party.

For the record, Logan tended to avoid such events. He didn’t see the point, firstly – he’d never been a fan of crowds, especially not ones where everyone was drunk off their asses, and he generally had too much work to do to bother with parties. Secondly, he simply didn’t care enough to look nice for such a thing, or to go at all. Logan would much rather spend time with his friends if he had to be up in the middle of the night, whether haunting the 24/7 diner a few miles off campus or playing stupid games in the woods or making fun of Disney movies while throwing popcorn at the screen and shushing each other so they didn’t get noise complaints. 

But then there were Patton and Remy, social creatures who liked seeing other people and didn’t mind getting wasted to do so. Roman and Janus typically followed Patton wherever he went, so they were a given, and Remus had developed a raging crush on Remy by then, so he’d probably have tagged along even if Remy hadn’t grabbed his hand and said “You’ll come, right, Ree?” with a grin. 

Well, Remus was lost to them after that, and that left Emile, Logan, and Virgil alone.

Which would have been fine! Except then Virgil had got dragged in by Patton (a difficulty of being his roommate, according to Logan’s best friend, was that Patton was very, very persuasive when he wanted to be) and Virgil had begged Logan to come for “Introvert solidarity, L! Introvert solidarity!”

Then Emile had sighed, said something about being the only responsible one, and appointed themself designated driver. So Logan didn’t even have that excuse to pull himself and Virgil out of it early. 

He finds himself on a couch in someone’s house, sitting besides Virgil. Janus tells him that it is owned by someone who goes to their college but lives nearby, a summer home belonging to their parents or something. Janus says ze aren’t sure who the actual host is, and ze run off to go find Roman or Patton before Logan can ask why all of them are attending a party hosted by someone they don’t know.

Virgil has obviously already had something to drink, or he’s insanely sleep-deprived, as he has started playing with Logan’s hair. Logan’s willing to bet on the former (although knowing Virgil, he can’t be sure – he has an awful sleep schedule) especially since he’s never known the other to be so touchy, even when tired. 

“How’d you get it like this?” Virgil asks, running his fingers through Logan’s curls. He’s perched on top of the couch, and though he would normally be concerned that Virgil might fall, Logan is just glad he doesn’t have to bend over so his friend can examine his hair. 

He tells Virgil, and can’t help but smile as he laughs, perhaps a little more than the story warrants. They sit there in peace for a few minutes, Virgil humming along with any song he recognizes and Logan scanning the room for any of their friends. 

“Your hair is so pretty,” Virgil eventually says, and Logan is surprised he can hear him at all over the noise of the music and other people. He slides down from the couch to sit beside him, reaching up to poke Logan’s cheek. “You’re pretty. You know that, right? You’re real, real pretty.”

“Aw,” Logan grins, hoping the dim lights and Virgil’s addled brain will hide his red cheeks. “What is it you say? Oh, right; you think I’m warm.”

“No, dummy, I think you’re hot,” Virgil sighs. “Get it right.”

“Why, thank you.”

“‘Course. You’re my best friend, Logan Sanders.”

“Same,” he replies, dodging Virgil’s attempt to flick him as he scans the room. “Have you seen Remy or Remus around recently?”

“Oh, they’ve been making out in that closet over there,” Virgil says offhandedly, pointing, and Logan nearly chokes. “You didn’t know? They’re so obvious, Remy’s been whining about it to me for weeks. ‘Oh, Virgil, I’m doomed to be alone forever!’ ‘Oh, Virgil, Remus is so hot, and I’m going to whine about it to you for hours!’ ‘Oh, Virgil, I have a crush on a trash rat man and I won’t stop talking about it ever!’”

“Did Remy actually call Remus a ‘trash rat man’?” he snickers, turning to look at Virgil, who is wringing his hands in mock despair as he imitates Remy.

“No,” Virgil pouts. “Wish he had. Remus would love that.”

“He would,” Logan agrees, rolling his eyes fondly. “Hey, do you want to leave?”

“Why, Logan Perfect-Hair Sanders, are you asking me to ditch a party with you?” he laughs.

“That isn’t my middle name and you know it.” Logan shoots off a text to Emile, standing and turning to grab Virgil’s hand, pulling him upright. “But sure. Will you, Virgil Emo-Nightmare Foley, ditch this absurd party with me?”

“Logan, I thought you’d never ask,” Virgil smirks. “Let’s bounce!”

They get lucky – Logan hasn’t had anything to drink, and due to how large their group is, Virgil had had to drive over Patton, Janus, Roman, and himself earlier. Virgil hands him the keys to the car, and Logan drives them to the nearby McDonalds, where they order fries and milkshakes. “Let’s go somewhere high,” Virgil says when they return to the car, grinning, and Logan obliges, driving them to his favorite stargazing spot near campus, partway up a mountain in a parking lot for an old playground. 

Soon, he finds himself sitting on the hood of Virgil’s car, dipping his fries in a chocolate shake as the two of them stare up at the stars and the moon, pointing out constellations. “Look,” giggles Virgil, his head on Logan’s shoulder as he traces lines between stars. “It’s the glasses one!”

“There is no ‘glasses’ constellation, Virgil,” he points out, but the path his friend is etching into the sky does look rather like a pair of glasses. 

“Well, there is now,” replies the other. “It’s your constellation! You deserve one, y’know, ‘cause you’re pretty, and smart, and nice, and funny, and you’re just the best, Lo, okay?”

“How much did you have to drink, exactly?” Logan asks, raising an eyebrow, and his friend punches him in the arm, lightly. “Ow!”

“I’m telling the truth,” Virgil rolls his eyes, pulling the blankets they’d retrieved from the trunk closer around the two of them. “You deserve a constellation. You deserve the universe.”

“Well, now we have to find you a constellation, too,” he muses, ignoring the heat in his cheeks (he seems to be blushing quite a lot lately, talking to Virgil) as he searches the sky. It takes a few minutes, and Virgil is half-asleep on his shoulder by the time he makes his choice, but finally Logan says “I found it.”

“Well, lemme see,” Virgil mumbles, opening his eyes. 

He traces lines between a series of stars. “It’s a cloud,” he explains, “and a lightning bolt. Because you’re a thunderstorm, V.”

“Isn’t that a bad thing?” He’s biting his lip, suddenly subdued, and Logan feels a surge of guilt, because no one should ever make Virgil look like that, anxious and hurt and scared all at once.

“No,” he answers, fiercely enough that Virgil jumps slightly. “You’re wild, and chaotic, and occasionally a bit destructive, but you also make people feel alive. You bring rain to help things live, you bring the sound of a storm and the beauty of lightning, you simultaneously wake me up and help me sleep. You are beautiful, and inspiring, and so amazingly you, and the best friend I could ever ask for.”

“...And I thought I was the English major,” Virgil says quietly, and his face is bright red. “You have no right to be better at words than me, Sanders.”

“Well, Foley, I’m the astrophysics major, and you’re the one who started making constellations, so turnabout’s fair play,” Logan replies, and Virgil lets out a laugh at that.

Later, when the fries and milkshakes are both gone, they get back into the car and drive back to their dorms. For Logan’s birthday that year, a month or so later, Virgil presents him with a painting of the glasses constellation. He’d commissioned Remus, he explains, staring at his feet, and Logan tells him he loves it. For Virgil’s birthday, he gets a similar art piece from Roman, of the stars making a storm, and Virgil pulls him into a tight hug.

For now, though, the two of them simply sit and gaze into space. 

–

Logan goes on a few dates with someone he meets at the coffee shop, named Andy. They become boyfriends. Virgil teases him about it whenever he brings it up, and eventually he stops talking about his partner to his best friend. The two of them start to pull apart, their friendship strained.

When Logan and Andy separate, Virgil is dating a girl he’s only met a few times, who shares Virgil’s English classes and wears colorful barrettes to hold back her curls.

He hadn’t even known Virgil liked her. 

–

College passes by quickly. They graduate, and Logan tumbles into a job at a rather prestigious observatory. He lives in a small apartment in the city nearby, buys coffee from the Starbucks across the street every morning, settles into a routine.

Gradually, they all start to fall out of touch. It sucks, but things have been off between Virgil and him ever since Logan had dated Andy Michaels, and at the moment Logan sees his ex-boyfriend more than his ex-best friend. Their relationship had ended amicably, but still – he misses Virgil Foley, more than he’d ever like to admit. 

A year or so later, Logan receives the invitation to Remy and Remus’ wedding. 

It is in the fall, and Logan isn’t surprised in the least that they plan to have it in a forest, if only because he knows that the odds of Remus wanting the guests to jump into leap piles with him are absurdly high. At least they’re at an actual wedding site, so they can be inside if needed – Logan half expected, when he found out they’d gotten engaged, for them to drag a bunch of guests to a Starbucks for the event. 

What does surprise Logan is the fact that Remus has apparently sent it early, because Logan is going to be one of the wedding party attendants. 

He calls Remus and Remy that night, certain they’ve mixed up things, but Remy simply laughs. “Logan, you’re still one of our best friends,” he says. “Come on, please?”

“Besides,” Remus adds, “Virge will be one too, and Patton and Roman and Jan and Emile! You can’t break up the team!”

He ends up agreeing, and no matter how much Remy teases him about it later, it was not just to see Virgil again. 

The wedding rolls around. Logan has managed to avoid speaking to Virgil for more than a friendly greeting and a bit of small talk through all the preparations the two of them had had to attend, but the they both arrive early on the day of, and Logan doesn’t know anybody else, and, well, he does miss Virgil. 

“Hey,” he says. Virgil is nearly as tall as him in the heels he’s wearing (Logan had managed to opt out of them, convincing Remus to let him wear flats with his dress), and his green dress offsets his stormy eyes perfectly. Logan doesn’t think he looks nearly as good in the color, but he’d decided not to argue with Remy’s puppy-dog eyes. Besides, he much prefers the dress to the suits Emile and Patton had opted for. 

“Hi, Logan,” Virgil replies. The tension in the air is palpable, and Logan hates it. “How’ve you been lately?”

“I’m good,” he answers. 

“Oh, good,” nods Virgil. He’s gnawing at his lip again, and Logan can see the split in it even through the lipstick. “Me too.”

“I miss you,” Logan says suddenly, because he does. “You were my best friend, and I hate not being close, because you are one of the best things that ever happened to me.”

“...I miss you too.” He smooths his dress, looking out the window at the trees, and then laughs. “I’m surprised they didn’t have their wedding in a Starbucks, honestly.”

Logan can’t help but chuckle at that, especially when he spots Remy breezing past them, a coffee cup in hand and makeup only half-done, frantically trying to catch his little brothers and sister, whom he and Remus had appointed flower children. “I thought the same thing,” he admits. 

It’s easy for the two of them to talk, after that, sharing jokes and telling stories and talking about their new lives. Logan feels oddly happy when he learns Virgil is single, and when he mentions how he’s looking for a roommate and Virgil remarks that he is too, it feels as natural as breathing to ask where he’s currently living. Finding out they live in the same city makes Logan feel strangely elated. 

“Help!” Remus exclaims, skidding to a stop in front of them, collapsing into Virgil’s arms and only barely being caught. “I’ve lost my husband-to-be!” 

“Alright, please calm down,” Logan says, exchanging exasperated looks with Virgil, who pulls Remus back to his feet. “Have you actually lost Remy, or are you just being overly dramatic?”

“He has been stolen from me,” Remus whines. “We were kissing, and then he was dragged away by my evil brother!”

“By any chance, was he dragged away to prepare for your wedding? The event we’re attending, so you two can get married? The one that most guests are expected to arrive for in fifteen minutes?” Virgil crosses his arms over his chest, eyes narrowed. 

Remus’ eyes widen. “Fifteen minutes?” he asks, checking Logan’s watch, and groans. “Oh, drumsticks. Drumsticks torn right off a chicken. Bloody chicken legs everywhere.”

He darts off, and Logan and Virgil sigh simultaneously.

“We should go help, shouldn’t we?” Virgil asks, and Logan nods reluctantly. “Well, it was great to talk to you.”

“It was pleasant to speak with you, as well,” he agrees. 

As he turns to go find Patton, Virgil grabs his arm. “Hey, L, save me a dance, okay?”

They do indeed dance together that night, after they watch Remy and Remus get married among the colorful leaves, and talk, and laugh, and by the end of the wedding they are good friends again.

Virgil and Logan move in together by the end of November. 

–

They become surprisingly domestic, the two of them, moving into their large apartment that is close to both Logan’s job at the observatory and Virgil’s work at a publishing company. He’s not surprised Virgil has become an editor (he was always the best at it, when they exchanged essays to review), but he is rather impressed when he notes some of the books in Virgil’s room have his full name on the cover. “I write poetry, mostly,” he explains when Logan asks. “It’s… I used to use it like therapy, I guess, and I got some of it published. I’m not famous or anything.”

“That’s amazing,” Logan says sincerely. 

The poetry becomes important, later, but then, it is simply something for Logan to admire, another flash of beautiful lightning in Virgil’s storm.

Saturdays become movie nights, and they order junk food and make popcorn and watch documentaries or horror movies or cartoons together. Occasionally, some of their friends will join them, and every so often, all eight of them cram into Logan and Virgil’s living room. Despite his love for the others, however, Logan’s favorite nights are usually the ones when the two of them are alone, when they curl up together on the couch and make fun of trashy films or contribute their own knowledge to documentaries or sing along quietly to Disney. It is peaceful and lovely and utterly perfect.

Logan doesn’t mean to fall in love with Virgil. It sneaks up on him, mornings of coffee for him and tea for Virgil and memes shared over breakfast, afternoons texting each other with reminders to get groceries and news from the office, nights of cooking together and dancing to the radio. 

One day, when both of them have work off, Virgil pulls him out of bed, waits impatiently while Logan gets dressed, and drags him outside into a storm. They walk through the park together, enjoying the rain on their skin, both of them jumping into puddles and belting the title number of Singing in the Rain and getting utterly soaked. 

They return home for cocoa, each taking a warm shower and then sitting together on the couch to watch old movies with small white krakens bobbing in their cups. It is then, with Virgil curled up against him, wet hair soaking Logan’s neck and the smell of hot chocolate in the air, that Logan realizes he loves a thunderstorm in human form. 

His best friend.

Oh, god, Logan is in love with his best friend. And also his roommate. And also his favorite person in the whole of the universe.

(He’s pretty sure that if Virgil could hear his thoughts, and if, y’know, Virgil wasn’t the person in question, he’d roll his eyes and say, “Oh my god, they were roommates.” The idea nearly makes him laugh.) 

Logan tries to get over his crush (and there’s no other word for it, as juvenile as it sounds). He really does. But it’s so hard, now that he knows it exists, especially when he has to see Virgil every single day. And he can’t just cut himself off, or leave their apartment, because that might ruin their friendship, and that’s the whole reason he’s trying to escape his feelings, because he loves being Virgil’s friend more than anything. 

So he exists in this inbetween state, thrashing in the eyewall of a storm, so close to safety and danger simultaneously, trapped in chaos and uncertainty. 

Logan isn’t quite sure whether he really wants to return to the eye, blissful quiet and the peace of oblivion, or if he can at all. But he thinks entering the storm itself, the danger of telling Virgil how he feels, the potential for a life with him, is equally impossible. 

Eventually he decides that it is best to just ignore his rebellious feelings. It works, sort of – Virgil doesn’t seem to notice anything different, and Logan gets to keep his best friend. Still, every moment together is tinged with a sort of bittersweet sadness, the dancing in the kitchen and cuddling on the couch and meals together a harsh reminder that they are just friends.

He’s not sure exactly how his other friends figure it out, but they do, judging from how Remy and Janus tell him exasperatedly that he really ought to say something to Virgil, how Patton and Roman tell him how cute they would be together, how Remus does his best to shove Logan towards Virgil at any opportunity, how Emile tells him pointedly that repressing his feelings isn’t exactly healthy. Logan does decide that he’ll confess… eventually. 

The problem with eventually, however, is how ambiguous it is. The others have realized as much, evidently, but they don’t force Logan to say something, or tell Virgil themselves, and he appreciates that.

It is a Saturday when eventually finally comes, a peaceful movie night interrupted by a phone call with Roman’s name flashing on the screen. He holds up a finger over his lips as he accepts the call, grimacing apologetically to Virgil as he steps into his own room. “What do you want?” he asks exasperatedly when he picks it up, and winces as the other line fills with noise. 

“Logan, have you read Virgil’s latest book?” Roman practically screams, and in the background Logan can hear Patton squealing with excitement as Janus shushes them both. 

He frowns, closing the door to his bedroom. “I wasn’t aware he’d been working on one.” Normally, Logan knows whenever Virgil is working on another collection of his poetry – he’s often the first person Virgil hands it to for editing. 

“Get on your computer this instant, Pocket Protector,” says Roman, and Logan can hear his grin.

A quick search confirms it; a new book of poetry, just released by Virgil Foley. The revelation is almost painful (does Virgil not trust him anymore? Not like him?) until Janus’ voice comes over the line, hir voice sarcastic and concerned altogether.

“Way to go, love, he’s definitely not overthinking this,” ze sigh. “Logan, listen to me. I need you to go look at some of the reviews for the book, okay? Actually, no, if you can find a sample online, go read that.”

He’s operating in a haze, a robot in human flesh, and what do robots do but obey orders?

Logan barely understands what he’s reading at first, lines of poetry in the sample flashing past him. He checks the reviews, words of praise and admiration flowing through his mind, and it takes a second before he understands any of it. 

Clicking back to the online sample, he starts to recognize the story being told. It is a tale of late nights and hot drinks in the morning, of pining and fear of destroying a friendship older than love.

It is Logan’s story, told through another’s words, a voice speaking of a scholar of the stars, of glasses and storms, of hugs and hand-holding and a cute barista, a boy in psych class, a friendship repaired at another’s wedding, of admiration and hope and love. A love for someone seen not as a storm, but as stars, as the universe in human flesh. 

Virgil is in love.

Virgil is in love with Logan. 

“I’ll call you back,” he hears himself say, and drops his phone on his bed in his haste to get back to the living room. 

“Logan?” Virgil’s voice pierce the haze of his thoughts, his eyes 

(a storm, wild beauty) 

shining with concern, and he sits up from where he’s lying on the couch. “You okay? What happened?”

There are many things he wants to say, questions and explanations and promises, but in the end, all he says is “Can I kiss you?”

“What?” He doesn’t expect Virgil to look quite so flustered, but then again, Logan did just storm into the room, looking desperate and probably a tad deranged, and ask to kiss his best friend. 

“Roman told me about the new book,” Logan says first, and Virgil’s eyes widen even further, and he can sense the incoming apology, but he isn’t done, not yet. He begins to crack his knuckles, a habit he’d thought he’d finally lost, full to the brim with nervous energy. “I’ve read some of it, and as far as I can tell, you are romantically attracted to me. Which is good, because I also harbor such feelings for you, and have for about a year now. So. Can I kiss you?”

“Isn’t it ‘May I kiss you’?” Virgil grins, playing off his feelings with humor, as always. Logan opens his mouth to apologize as his world comes crashing down, because oh, he’s messed up, oh no, but then his best friend’s expression softens, and he whispers “Of course, Logan Sanders.”

“Thank you, Virgil Foley,” he says, and abandons the eyewall for the storm. 

They don’t watch any more movies that night. The two of them kiss, and talk, and kiss some more, and Virgil grabs his author’s edition of the new book from his room, and they read it together on the couch. 

The next morning, they sit with their coffee and tea and talk some more, about labels and boundaries and dreams. Their friends come over for movies the next Saturday, and Virgil and Logan hold hands as they tell them they are dating. 

(Roman choking on the popcorn in his excitement almost makes up for the money Logan spots being exchanged between Emile, Remus, and Patton.)

Eventually, Virgil’s latest book will gain fame, and they will end up with quite a bit of money between the two of them, especially after Logan gets a promotion. Eventually, they will move to a larger house, one a bit outside the city, one where they will have two cats and a dog and a son named Thomas. Eventually, they will get married in the spring, and when it starts to rain as they say their vows, the two of them just laugh. 

But that is eventually. In the now, Logan Sanders is in love. In the now, Virgil Foley is in love. 

They are glasses and hoodies, poetry written and spoken, dancing in the kitchen and cuddles on the couch. 

They are thunderstorms, and they are stars.

#analogical #romantic analogical #virgil sanders #ts virgil #logan sanders #ts logan #royaliceit #romantic royaliceit #intrusleep #rem^2 #romantic intrusleep #romantic rem^2 #drlamper #platonic drlamper #nonbinary emile picani #nonbinary janus sanders #aroace emile picani #mild gore warning #roommates #emile picani #patton sanders #remy sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #roman sanders #thomas sanders #cinder writes

[wordsablaze]

To Be Loved

Love is a fickle thing, it can burst into life within minutes or it can take months to fully bloom. The one thing Jaskier and Eskel can always agree on is that it's more than worth the time it takes...

A/N: continues on from to be found but also works as a standalone, written for aro week <3

-

Their first date had gone well, all things considered.

Eskel had been a little sleep deprived on account of working until late and worrying until even later but Jaskier hadn’t seemed to mind at all, bursting with enough enthusiasm for the both of them.

He’d been waiting outside the bakery at six, scrolling through his phone and looking up just as Eskel was debating whether he should just sneak back inside. Jaskier had grinned widely and Eskel had immediately known it was going to be a good evening.

“You look like you have a lemon stuck in your mouth,” Lambert tells him as he walks into work a week later.

“And how would you know what that looks like?” Eskel grumbles.

To be honest, he’s felt like he has a lemon stuck in his mouth since last weekend because Jaskier had promptly disappeared off the face of the earth. He wants to think it’s just a coincidence but he can’t help feeling as though it’s another case of the whole Eskel isn't good at first dates so of course it wouldn’t work out thing again.

Lambert raises his hands in surrender and gestures to the kitchens, where everyone is allowed to work in peace when they’re not in the right mindset for actual interaction. He zones out immediately, only looking up when Coen pokes his head in the doorframe.

“We might need your help with this guy,” he says, and Eskel sighs, already expecting a problematic customer or something.

What he’s not expecting is Jaskier tapping his foot on the floor and biting his lip. He freezes when he sees Eskel, opening his mouth to say something, but Eskel holds up a hand. “Can you come through to the back? I don’t want to have this conversation here.”

In the few minutes it takes for them to reach the office, he’s decided he’s more than ready for Jaskier to admit his spontaneous flirting was just a whim and he's not interested in anything else. Only, Jaskier does nothing of the sort.

“Eskel, I am so sorry about disappearing! I didn’t mean to, I swear! It’s just that Shani’s place flooded so she broke her ankle and I had to drive her to the hospital but we were arguing on the way and this guy at a red light decided I’d hurt her as if I wouldn’t rather die but we ended up fighting and I ended up with a concussion again and we both had to stay for observation or something and I- I’m really sorry for leaving you hanging,” Jaskier blurts.

Eskel blinks.

“Is she okay?” he asks, not really sure what he’s meant to be focusing on.

Jaskier nods, his shoulders dropping as he lets out a slow exhale. “She went to medical school, she knew exactly what they were going to do before we even got in the car.”

“That’s useful,” Eskel replies, but then shakes his head. “Wait, are you okay? Someone gave you a concussion?”

He’d been amused last time Jaskier had downplayed concussions but now he’s seriously wondering if he should be concerned about how the other man can be so unfazed by so much - it’s not like you can develop an immunity to head trauma.

Jaskier just nods again. “Of course, I’m fine. I hope I didn’t give you the wrong impression?”

“Not at all,” Eskel lies.

There are arms around him before he can try and figure out whether Jaskier had seen through his lie. He stumbles slightly but allows the embrace to happen, oddly comforted by the fact that Jaskier is just as relieved to have explained the truth as Eskel is; maybe this time things truly can work out, he thinks.

.

“You really don’t have to go tonight,” Jaskier says for the fourth time that day.

Eskel sighs, throwing a cushion at him. “It’s been three months since we met, I think it’s about time I see you perform.”

Jaskier hums before flopping onto the small sofa, resting his head on Eskel’s lap with the rest of his body draped lengthwise, his feet dangling off the armrest at the end. “But I know you don’t like loud or crowded spaces and we aim to have exactly that,” he pouts.

There’s a long moment in which Eskel just appreciates that he’s not being forced to go despite how bizarre it is to experience the exact opposite situation. He smiles down at Jaskier and very truthfully says, “It won’t matter because I like you.”

He places a finger on Jaskier’s lips when he tries to argue again, chuckling. “And before you ask me again if I’m sure, don’t.”

Jaskier’s eyes practically sparkle for a moment before he twists his head and bites Eskel’s finger, nowhere near hard enough to hurt but firmly enough for it to be a shock.

Rolling his eyes, Eskel laughs. “What, my baking isn’t enough for you anymore?”

Starting to reply only to realise that he can’t form actual words whilst biting down on an index finger, Jaskier pulls Eskel’s hand away and grins. “Dessert is fine, darling, but you’re a five-course meal and I wouldn’t trade all the oven goodies in the world for you.”

Eskel has no idea how to reply to that.

It’s far more romantic than anything he’s used to and he’s never been good at flirting so the last thing he wants to do is say something that ruins whatever they have going on. After a long moment of panic, he settles on shrugging. “We have a pretty good oven.”

Jaskier hums in reply and thankfully doesn’t press on his hesitation, sitting upright with a small sigh. “I suppose I should go get dressed. Are you driving?”

“I don’t trust you with my car,” Eskel says, only half joking.

“I’ll be wearing those heeled boots then,” Jaskier grins, taking absolutely no offence as he springs to his feet and blows a kiss before heading to Eskel’s bathroom, where he’d dumped his change of clothes when arriving earlier and declared it was his domain for the rest of the day.

If anyone had told the Eskel of a few years ago that he’d willingly allow someone so chaotic to saunter around his home and genuinely flirt with him in every other conversation, he’d probably have rolled his eyes and assumed they’d somehow mistaken him for someone else; maybe changing his mindset has been for the better, he thinks.

.

The ocean has no right to be so elegant.

Eskel had never been a huge fan of beaches because the stubbornness of sand is quite frankly sinful but Jaskier absolutely adores everything about them and there’s only so many of his puppy dog eyes that can be refused.

“We’ll barely even touch the sand, I promise!” Jaskier had declared, and he’d made sure of it too.

Soon enough, they’re settled on the rocky side of the beach, propped up against a larger stone with their legs stretched out in front of them and their shoulders pressed together. Jaskier slips his fingers into Eskel’s and gently squeezes, which has quickly become one of Eskel’s favourite things ever.

“Aren’t the waves gorgeous?” Jaskier asks wistfully.

Eskel hums. “They can still kill you.”

Jaskier laughs, nudging him. “Ever the optimist, aren’t you? Nothing can kill me, darling, not today.”

Well, he can’t really argue with that because he feels the exact same way. It’s hard to think of anything morbid when celebrating six months together and he doesn’t particularly want to try so he just nods in agreement.

“Thank you,” Jaskier whispers after a while.

Eskel turns to him, tilting his head to one side. “No, you were right, it is soothing to watch the waves.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Jaskier lifts their connected hands and places a soft kiss on Eskel’s thumb before looking directly at him with an even softer smile. “Thank you for letting me stay for so long.”

He says that as if Eskel isn’t in disbelief about someone being willing to stay with him for so long, especially someone like Jaskier who could probably charm his way into the lives of anyone he pleases.

“I should be saying that to you,” Eskel admits, “I know I’m not exactly the best partner out there.”

Jaskier genuinely looks offended. He uses his free hand to poke Eskel’s stomach and glares at him. “Don’t say things like that, you are possibly the kindest and most patient person I know, not to mention the most handsome.”

Eskel’s face heats up at that and even though he knows he tries to be kind and patient, he can’t help wishing he could be more, that he could be charming and fun and worthy of the poetry Jaskier keeps texting to him whenever he’s drunk.

“Hey, look at me?” Jaskier asks.

Eskel’s head moves before he gives it permission but he has no regrets because Jaskier is smiling and he’s grown overly fond of that stupid smile and the way it manages to make him feel a little better every time it’s directed towards him.

“I love you,” Jaskier whispers.

Oh.

His expression must give his alarm away because Jaskier squeezes his hand again and shuffles so he’s leaning his head on Eskel’s shoulder, looking out at the ocean. “You don’t have to say it back but I couldn’t possibly have gone another day without telling you. And it doesn’t matter, you’re still the best.”

Jaskier falls in love with someone or something new every other day but they’ve both been hesitant to acknowledge his unwavering commitment to loving Eskel until now. Eskel exhales slowly, letting his head rest stop Jaskier’s and closing his eyes.

His first instinct is to apologise but he’s almost certain Jaskier would throw him into the ocean if he did so he settles for squeezing Jaskier’s hand and shuffling even closer, focusing on the way they fit together so well, on the way everything they do together is comfortable, on the way he doesn’t feel pressured to pretend.

He’s always been a little scared of actually finding the love he usually only hears about through everyone else in fear of somehow failing at it but Jaskier has never demanded anything he wasn’t happy to give; maybe love isn’t so frightening with the right people, he thinks.

.

“Jaskier, where’s my hoodie?” Eskel asks, frowning at his wardrobe.

He knows Jaskier sometimes borrows his clothes but he’s not sure how to take that since he seems to do that with literally everyone he knows, whether that’s his bandmates, random people he meets at bars, or even Ciri on a few memorable, drunk occasions.

“Which one?” Jaskier calls back from the kitchen where he’d gone to find popcorn because he refuses to watch a film without some.

Eskel sighs. “The red one with the flowers.”

“Roses!” Jaskier corrects, and Eskel just knows he’s shaking his head in exasperation. “And I don’t know!”

After a moment of frustration, Eskel shrugs on the other red hoodie and makes his way to the kitchen, groaning when he sees Jaskier wearing the not so missing hoodie. Jaskier’s eyes widen at the sound and he spins on his heel to check the microwave as if having expected it to be exploding.

“I thought you said you didn’t know?” Eskel asks, raising an eyebrow.

Jaskier only frowns. “I don’t?”

It takes him a minute to catch on and finally glance down at himself, at which point he bites his lip and looks up again sheepishly. “I just grabbed a random one,” he mumbles eventually.

Eskel rolls his eyes because it’s not the first time they’ve had this type of conversation and makes his way over, using his thumb to gently pull Jaskier’s lip out from under his teeth before very softly kissing him. “Blue suits you better,” he whispers.

Jaskier nods, still wide-eyed and a little breathless as he lifts his arms and loops them around Eskel’s neck. “But red reminds me of you,” he whispers back, his gaze flickering between Eskel’s eyes and lips.

Well, there goes Eskel’s heart melting again.

The microwave beeps at them before he figures out how to reply, both of them jumping enough for their foreheads to crash together. Jaskier curses immediately, stepping back as he rubs his head and glares at the microwave as if it’d just stabbed him.

“Hope the popcorn is worth the pain,” Eskel says, laughing.

Jaskier sticks his tongue out before pulling the popcorn out, pouring it into a bowl and handing said bowl to Eskel as he has the steadier hand and is far less likely to spill it all before they even sit down, which they’d unfortunately had to learn from experience.

“Don’t doubt me, darling, you are going to love this film!” Jaskier declares just as he always does - he’s only right about half the time but Eskel has to credit him for the everlasting confidence at least.

It doesn’t take them long to settle, Jaskier leaning heavily on Eskel and their arms wrapped around each other, and although Eskel is about ninety percent certain he won’t like the film judging by the cover, he wouldn’t dare interrupt Jaskier’s mission to broaden his cinematic horizons or whatever.

“You are unfairly comfortable,” Jaskier mumbles, practically burrowing into his chest.

Eskel laughs, snuggling closer himself. “You have very strange standards.”

Jaskier hums quietly, choosing popcorn over replying to the accusation just as the film finally starts with a rather cliché shot of the view from a window. He was right in thinking he wouldn’t particularly like it but Jaskier’s constant commentary has both of them laughing and it’s worth the watch anyway; maybe being with someone else makes the boring things less boring, he thinks.

.

Weird how a year can feel like forever as well as no time at all.

Eskel wakes up on the morning after their first anniversary with a slow smile, taking in the way Jaskier is sprawled over him like some sort of misguided blanket.

Perhaps it’s just Jaskier’s poetic influence over the past year but he thinks it’s utterly fitting that sunlight just so happens to be falling over the two of them in a way that makes it seem as though they’re glowing even though it’s still winter.

It’s a good thing Jaskier sleeps like the dead when he actually manages to fall asleep for a normal human amount of time because it gives Eskel the chance to do things like bring them breakfast in bed. This one he’s been planning for a while so he doesn’t waste any time gazing and quickly slips out of bed, getting himself sorted and making his way to the kitchen.

He more or less makes the pancakes with muscle memory alone because there’s a part of him that can’t help worrying. He knows Jaskier loves him, he knows that better than he knows most things, but he’s never had a relationship this long and he doesn’t know the right etiquette to all of this.

“Eskel?”

Cursing inwardly, he grabs the tray - complete with a plate of four pancakes, two mugs of coffee, and one small envelope - and heads back to his bedroom, pausing in the doorway. “Right here,” he smiles.

Jaskier returns the smile, then yawns before raising his eyebrows at the sight of the tray. “We already had anniversary breakfast yesterday?”

“Are you saying you don’t want the pancakes?” Eskel asks, smirking when Jaskier sits up with a grin that makes his answer perfectly clear. “Thought so.”

“Mhm, you’re the best boyfriend in the galaxy,” Jaskier says as Eskel places the tray at the foot of the bed and settles beside him.

Eskel is more than aware his face has probably gone embarrassingly red but for once, Jaskier doesn’t point it out, instead getting distracted by and picking up the little envelope with a frown. “What’s this?”

Deep breath.

“Can I open it now?” Jaskier asks, thankfully able to guess that Eskel’s throat has gone a little too dry for him to explain.

When he nods, Jaskier offers him a smile and rips one side open, gasping when he sees what’s inside: a key. Or more specifically, a replica of Eskel’s house key.

“I love you,” Eskel says honestly.

It’d taken him a while to get things sorted in his head - not to mention several awkward conversations with his family and friends - but at this point, he’s absolutely certain he loves Jaskier and nothing can make him question his heart in the slightest.

Jaskier sniffles and throws his arms around Eskel before he can apologise for making him cry. And Eskel laughs, holding his boyfriend whom he truly genuinely loves because he is capable of that after all close until they’re both satisfied they’re not going to actually burst into tears or anything.

“I love you back, of course,” Jaskier says as he pulls back, rubbing his eyes.

Eskel grins, ignoring the way it almost physically hurts his face, and only grins further when Jaskier kisses him despite both of them being a little too smiley for it to really work.

“I can’t believe you made me cry before pancakes,” Jaskier grumbles eventually, elbowing him, but he’s still half-grinning and there’s a lot of mixed signals.

Laughing, Eskel brushes his thumbs under Jaskier’s eyes. “The pancakes aren’t going anywhere.”

Jaskier hums in acknowledgement and twirls the key between his fingers for a long moment, apparently thinking something over. “You are aware this means you’re never going to get a moment of peace again, right?” he asks.

“I’m willing to take that risk,” Eskel replies even though he’s never felt more at peace than when he’s with Jaskier.

“On your head be it, darling,” Jaskier laughs, shuffling so he can curl into Eskel’s arms again, “I love you so much.”

Eskel’s reply is swallowed by the lump in his throat but it’s okay because Jaskier knows and he knows Jaskier knows and that’s more than enough. Their breakfast will probably go cold before they get round to it but neither of them will mind because everything else is just so perfect; maybe love is just being patient with the differences, Eskel thinks.

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ik this is fairly niche so it's unlikely many ppl will be reading but just in case: this fic was not meant to reflect aromanticism as a whole - sometimes you just don't aim for love and that's totally valid !! this was just a lil ventfic,,

ongoing masterlist for this au if you’re interested :)

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thanks for reading !! masterlist | witcher blog: @itsjaskier​

#jaskel #jaskier x eskel #the witcher #fanfic #jaskier #eskel #aromantic eskel #demiromantic eskel #modern au #bakery au #love confessions #insecure eskel #soft jaskier #soft eskel #morhen cares au #aro week #pls pretend i crossposted this on time thanks #the self indulgence is strong in this one #my writing #tbl